Red Handed
by Pissy Abyssinian
Summary: When something precious is stolen from Dresden, he has to chase the thief halfway across the country. His pursuit lands him face to face with two shady brothers, a pint sized demon, and a betrayal he should have seen coming. Supernatural/Dresden crossov
1. Chapter 1

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**Author's Notes: **Many many thanks to jadeanime: friend, muse, beta reader, and ever valorous Tester of my Cooking. That being said, this is my first fic to actually post. I'm still pretty new to writing in general, so I'm always open to constructive criticism, _especially_ if it concerns staying true to Dresden's character. In any case, I hope you guys enjoy this :)

**For anyone that hasn't seen Supernatural:** Supernatural is a show on the CW that's closing in on the end of it's third season. Naturally, I can't throw in the entire back story without boring most people to tears, but I promise to do my best to squeeze vital information into later chapters. This includes a bit of history on Sam and Dean, as well as Bella, though there hasn't been much information revealed on her character in the show either. Feel free to message me with any questions concerning it.

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Human life is full of choices. Some of them are paltry, others are pivotal. Choices such as: white wine or red? Paper or plastic? Are you mad enough to rear-end the guy that cut you off?

Are there any circumstances that justify a man hitting a woman?

Dean pondered this last question intently as he stared down at the rain soaked beauty on his motel room doorstep. Bella Talbot, professional thief and backstabber extraordinaire stood without shelter, hands plunged deep within the pockets of her trench coat. However her blonde hair had been previously styled, it was now a matted mess around her face, and her shoes, easily worth more than the Impala, were carelessly caked with mud. She stared back at Dean unwaveringly, the dark circles under her eyes undermining the efforts of whatever make up still clung against the downpour. She shivered despite her defiant stare, and shifted nervously from foot to foot.

All in all she looked wretched and pitiful. Dean was not fooled.

"I need your help," she said.

"I need my gun."

Her eyes fell to the pavement at that. "I-I don't have it."

Dean nodded abruptly. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. See ya, Bella."

The thief darted forward and blocked the door with her body, stopping it mid slam. "Dean…please. You have every reason to refuse me, I know, but I don't have anywhere else to go."

Dean was not a tall man; therefore it didn't take much effort on his part to put his nose inches from hers. "You're right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The anger it carried caused a deep rumble in his chest. "I _do_ have every reason to refuse you. I also have every reason to shoot you where you stand, but I'm not doing that either. Consider that last one a stroke of luck and leave. Now."

Sam slid into view over Dean's shoulder, hands effectively hidden behind his brother; holding a gun most likely. "Dean? What's going on?"

"Apparently Bella here has decided that she needs our help."

Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion and he leaned a bit to the side to get a better view. Ever the opportunist, Dean had shifted his weight against the door, pinning Bella beneath it. She gave Sam a wry smile and nodded in greeting.

"Dean…maybe we should let her in."

He shot Sam a look of disgust, "What? Are you freaking kidding me? I'm not letting her in here. We've fallen for that one too many times. You know as well as I do, that if we let her in, she's gonna give us some sob story about how someone's chasing her, or trying to kill her. Then we're gonna fall for it, and end up being her puppets in another big," he waved his free hand over his head as he searched for a word, "heist or something. Again."

Sam looked to the woman and cocked a questioning eyebrow.

Bella shrugged, "Someone's trying to kill me."

Dean smirked and swung his hand in her direction as if to say: See?

"I still think we should at least listen to her."

"Sorry, not this time, Sammy. Unless it involves getting the Colt back, I'm done with this one." Dean made a move to start pushing Bella out the door.

Sam sighed, "Yeah, but Dean…if for some reason she _is_ telling the truth, and whoever's after her _does_ kill her, then it's going to be that much harder to get the Colt back."

Dean halted at that, his shoulders tensing as he visibly struggled against Sam's logic. There was a moment of silence that drug on, steadily raising the tension level of the room. Sam believed that he could almost see the wheels in Dean's head turning frantically as he fought with his brother's words. Finally, he threw his hands up in defeat and shoved away from the door, causing Bella to let out an uncomfortable, "Oof!"

"Whatever, you win, Sammy. But!" he whirled and poked a finger in Sam's chest, "I know I'm right about this. When she proves me right you owe me a beer," He strode over and flopped onto the nearest of the two beds, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. "Make that twelve beers."

Bella came in the rest of the way and closed the door behind her with quiet dignity, nodding silent thanks to Sam. Sam, who really had been holding a gun the whole time, used it to motion her toward the room's only chair. He stepped back a bit as she slipped past, not willing to turn his back on her just yet…or probably ever.

There was much in the way of shifting and grunting and glaring while everyone settled in. Eventually their efforts resulted in Sam and Dean (both armed now) sitting at the end of their respective beds, staring crossly at Bella, who sat in an armless chair, ankles crossed, with her hands primly folded in her lap. Silence reigned for a time, each waiting for the other to start the conversation. Finally it was Dean that spoke up. "Soooo…someone's trying to kill you. Care to elaborate on that?"

Bella sighed and pushed a stray clump of hair behind one ear. "It isn't a horribly complicated story. A decade or so ago a…collector of sorts was killed by his ward. The murderer stole one of his finer pieces and made off with it. A friend of the deceased asked that I reacquire said artifact. Sadly, however, I was caught." Her lips pursed at the end of the last sentence and she cast a pensive gaze to the side.

Sam chimed in, "Uh huh, so this collector that was killed, he had a taste for…"

"Artifacts of a unique and supernatural origin, yes," she confirmed.

Dean somehow managed to make a cough sound derisive, "Yeah, and we can assume that you still managed to make it out with the 'item' in your possession?" When she nodded he went on, "Pardon me for putting a little faith in you, but you've never seemed to have trouble evading your…victims before."

Bella laughed at that, probably louder than she should have. It wasn't feminine, refined, seductive, nor was it any of the other things the brothers had come to expect of her. It was more of a bark, a sudden release of nervous tension that might have been called a laugh for lack of a better word. That didn't mean, however, that it wasn't full of sarcasm. "Victims? Meaning you?" She chuckled at that, "Oh Dean, you're sweet. You might be good with your little gun, but evading you is certainly not a problem when the need arises. This man, on the other hand, he has methods much like my own for tracking and it makes running…difficult, to put it lightly."

Oddly enough, the logical side of Dean's brain won the argument raging inside his head. It informed the gun wielding side of his brain that silence was better than shooting at this point. If nothing else, he needed to wait for a better reason for violence, or he'd end up suffering Sam's whining for God knew how long. Somehow that seemed worse then listening to Bella for a few more minutes, so he resigned himself to his evilest glare and remained mute.

A few feet away, Sam recognized the set of his brother's jaw as evidence that he was having another "shoot or shut up" argument internally and decided it was best that he keep the conversation rolling. "Ok, so what you're saying here basically is that he uses Ouija boards and such the same as you do?"

The thief shook her head, "No, much as it pains me to admit, his methods are far more advanced than mine, and much more accurate. That's why I said that I have nowhere else to go. He's already found me in one of my safe houses, and, frankly, I need a protector with experience in the preternatural."

Dean shot to his feet. "A protector? Do you honestly expect us to fight for you? You're out of your freaking mind, lady," he began to stalk around the room, absently taking a swig from a half-finished beer on the bedside table. "I'm way more likely to hogtie you and put you out on the curb with a pretty red bow on your head."

"Dean…"

"I'm serious, Sammy, now where'd you pack my rope? Is it in my car?" Dean headed for the door.

Bella lazily raised her eyebrows, "I'd be willing to get the Colt back for you…"

The room fell into silence again. Bella of course waited patiently, a slight smile on her lips. Dean had stopped moving, but his back was still to them, beer in limbo somewhere in front of his face. Sam stared at the floor, shaggy brown hair falling forward to hide his expression. For several moments, all that could be heard was the ticking of an old wind up clock stashed in a back corner. Finally, it was Sam's quiet voice that spoke up.

"Do you really expect us to believe that?"

"In a word: yes. It's no secret that I do love money, but it really doesn't do me much good if I'm not around to spend it. I won't lie, it wouldn't be terribly simple to retrieve, but I both could, and would, be very willing to return it to you in exchange for your protection."

Dean turned his head to the side but didn't quite look at them, "When's he coming?"

A lamp near the door began to flicker slightly and Bella's eyes widened. "Um…now."

The brothers exchanged puzzled glances and Dean put his back to the wall beside the room's only window, moving the curtain aside slightly with his gun. Outside, the fluorescent bulbs that lit the motel's walkway were buzzing and winking spastically, making it hard for his eyes to focus on anything. Closer to the street, the vacancy sign was jerking convulsively in a wind that had come out of nowhere. A chill slithered down Dean's spine and coiled somewhere in the pit of his stomach…there weren't many things he'd encountered that caused environmental disturbances like this.

"Jesus, Bella!" he snarled, "You didn't tell us you had a damn demon after you."

Sam's head shot up in surprise at that and he turned accusing eyes to Bella, who had retreated into the furthest corner and crouched with a small knife raised.

"That's because he isn't," she almost had to yell to be heard. Somewhere beyond the window, they could hear little explosions of shattered glass drawing steadily closer. The light bulbs outside had begun exploding one by one, going down the row toward their room. "And put those guns away, they won't do you any good. You need something older. Is your shotgun in here?"

"Yeah," said Sam, "but it's loaded with rock salt right now."

"It doesn't matter, it can still hurt him at least, just grab it!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, he looked like he was about to say something else, but an odd creaking noise cut him off. He leaned in closer to the window, eyebrows meeting somewhere at the top of his nose as he strained to hear where the noise had come from. Quietly, almost imperceptibly the noise sounded again and Dean's eyes jerked wide in near panic. "Shit! Get down!"

He was already running before he'd finished the last two words. Sam and Bella had knelt between the room's two beds, quickly shifting through the brothers' assortment of weapons. Dean ran for them and leaped, becoming airborne over the bed just as the window behind him exploded into a thousand shards of razor-edged glass.

Sam's head poked up from behind the mattress at the explosion. He turned white at the sight of so many tiny blades zipping toward his head and immediately dove for the floor, pulling Bella down with him. A half second later Dean landed on top of the couple, shielding them both as best he could with his own body. Sam ended up with his head shoved most of the way under the bed, his brother's breathing ragged on the back of his neck.

All around them, pieces of the window fell in an odd parody of the rain falling outside. The gentle tinkling sounds it made were deceptively harmless, but Sam heard Dean let out a hissing grunt, quickly followed by something warm and wet trickling onto the back of his neck. Sam flinched at that, praying that Dean's leather jacket protected him from the worst of the glass.

It was all over in a matter of moments. The room's sole lamp had been broken at some point, and the Winchester's room was now covered in tiny bits of glass twinkling innocently in the moonlight. Rain pattered mutely against the carpet, and one curtain still clung precariously to its rod, blowing forlornly in the now gentle breeze.

Dean got up slowly, painfully, gun cocked and pointed toward the ceiling. "Sammy, you ok?" he asked softly, his whisper still too loud in the silence of the room.

"Yeah."

"Bella?"

"I've been better."

"Good enough," he scanned the room quickly, still crouching behind the bed for cover. Sam was soon on his knees beside him, quietly reloading the shotgun. Both scanned the room quickly but nothing moved. The door remained closed, the window empty. There was no crunching of footsteps on the glass.

Which is why it was such a surprise when someone spoke from behind them.

"_Fuego._"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, thanks a ton for all the reviews. Every time my e-mail alert goes off an angel gets its wings :x.

I did forget in the last chapter to mention a couple of things. 1) I do not own Dresden or the characters of Supernatural, though if Harry and the Winchester brothers were to show up bound and gagged on my porch…well I'd pass out from a nosebleed and be useless…but yeah. 2) Should probably clarify that this is bookverse for Harry, taking place a few months after "Small Favor". For Dean and Sam, this is a week or two after "Mystery Spot".

Thanks again to JadeAnime for keeping on me about this. Without her poking and random texts, I would probably have aimlessly wandered off to pick wildflowers or something halfway through the first chapter.

* * *

"_Fuego._"

Bella gasped in surprise as the window's sole remaining curtain burst into flames. The room was briefly illuminated by orange light, but the curtain had been well soaked by the rain, so the fire quickly died down to a smoldering ember, instead filling the room with billows of smoke. Dean caught a brief glimpse of a tall black figure in the back corner before he tucked into a roll and scrambled to the other side of the bed for cover.

The brothers had one of those moments of perfect understanding.

"Sam!"

"On it," Sam grabbed Bella by the neck of her coat and began steering her toward the room's exit, careful to keep their heads low as Dean fired off a couple of rounds into the corner they'd heard the voice come from. The bullets struck true, but Dean's eyes widened when they erupted into shocks of blue light a foot or so in front of the figure. He ducked back behind the bed before he could see anything else. What the hell?

On the floor with his back to the bed, Dean could see Sam reach the door with Bella still in tow. His brother reached for the knob and Dean rose again, firing two more shots at their assailant. Again, there were small flashes of light and the figure remained unharmed. A growl that might have been a word came from the shadows and Sam cried out as the door was ripped from his hands and slammed shut of its own accord. Sam whirled and shot once. It missed horribly, but the figure still stepped back a bit as Sam overturned the room's small desk and ducked behind it, pulling Bella down with him.

For a moment, there was a lull and no one breathed. Dean checked the clip in his gun. One more bullet. Damn. He went through a quick mental inventory and realized that the rest of his ammo was under his bed. Most likely right at the feet of the person attacking them. If it could be called a person. What had those flashes of light been? Slowly, Dean inched to the end of the bed and peaked around as much as he dared, staying as close to the floor as possible.

The smoldering curtain glowed more brightly then it should have, and the smoke it emitted was starting to catch in the back of his throat despite the "open" window. Dean set his teeth against a cough and was silently thankful for what little light the embers gave them.

There was a quiet crunching noise, and Dean realized that their attacker was moving closer. He eased back, rising up to a better shooting position. Behind Sam's barricade, all was quiet. Dean could only assume that his brother was having the same ammo issues as he, or maybe he was just waiting to see what Bella's hunter was going to do. Who knew? Maybe they could get out of this without a fight. Yeah right.

The man--as it was obviously a man now--came slowly into view, putting both Dean and Sam's desk into his line of sight. Dean blinked. Was the guy limping? He narrowed his eyes, taking their attacker in now that he could see him.

He was easily taller than Sam, though the fact that Dean was squatting on the floor might have helped that image a bit. His shock of rumpled black hair and full length black duster seemed to absorb the shadows around him, bringing his pale, angular face into stark relief. He held his left arm raised protectively, its hand gloved and drawn into an unnatural clawed shape that Dean suspected might be the result of major scarring. When Dean's eyes fell on the contents of his right hand, the chill that had settled in his stomach began to claw its way back up his spine. The man carried a long staff, its wood smooth and worn from years of use. Carved, or maybe burned into the staff were glowing runes that burned with their own smoldering fire.

The man's eyes, their color and expression lost to the partial light, took in both Dean and the desk at regular intervals, keeping everything in his sight. Dean might have been mistaken but he could have sworn that the guy nodded to him ever so slightly.

Another moment of silence and finally their attacker spoke. When he did, his voice was deep and a bit hoarse, the seething anger it carried contrasting starkly to his words, "Heya, Bella! Long time no see. Good to see that you made it out of the apartment all right."

Bella's voice drifted from behind the desk, polite as ever, "Good evening, Mr. Dresden. I could say the same about you. You seem well; I take it your attackers left you mostly unscathed."

Dean blinked again and then shook his head in disgust. Nothing with Bella was ever simple. He wished intently that he could see his brother's face right then, but poor Sam was probably getting just as confused as he was.

The man called Dresden scratched his forehead with the tip of his glowing staff, "Yeah, about that…Really hope they weren't friends of yours, they probably won't be calling for awhile."

Dean was getting really tired of being ignored. "Hi!" he said suddenly, loudly. His voice was like a bark that bounced around the cramped confines of their motel room. Dresden turned to him slightly, eyes narrowed. Once he had the other man's attention he smiled congenially, gun still aimed at his chest. "Hey there. Name's Dean. The guy cowering behind the desk over there is my brother, Sam. Bella came to us for protection, saying something about you wanting to kill her. Now normally I'd be the first one in line to back you up on that one, but the thing is that I really can't stand guys that pick on women." To illustrate his point, he adjusted his aim slightly, raising the gun and sighting down the barrel.

Dresden's eyes narrowed more. "I don't hit women…Dean. The lady here stole something that was mine. All I want is it back."

"Yeah, something that you've already killed to get? I don't think so." There was something nibbling in the back of Dean's head, something telling him that he might be in the wrong on this one. Given that he was choosing to back up Bella, it was very likely. Then again…Dean's eyes followed the line of Dresden's body. At some point the duster had shifted, revealing a large white bandage wrapped around the man's leg just below the knee. His dark fatigue pants had been cut off just above the bandage; standard action when the doctors wanted to get to a wound quickly. There was a dark stain forming in the middle of the gauze, and Dresden leaned so that almost no weight was on that leg. Something had been digging into his back since he'd ducked behind the bed, and Dean remembered that he'd knocked an ashtray to the floor earlier that evening. It was an old school ashtray, porcelain and heavy. He had an idea.

Dean took in Dresden's still glowing staff, his oddly misshapen hand. Whatever this guy was, he wasn't human, and hunter rule number one said that you don't deal with the monsters.

"Sam! Now!" he roared, and reached behind his back.

Sam rose from behind the desk immediately, shotgun aimed, and fired at Dresden.

Dresden had been moving as well, and he pivoted toward Sam. Again, that blue light flared and rendered the bullets harmless, but this time Dean was ready. His hand came clear with the ashtray and he flicked it like a Frisbee straight Dresden's bandaged shin. It struck home, and the taller man folded and fell against the wall with a pained snarl. Sam fired again, and once more it was blocked by a flash of light. The light was duller this time, sluggish somehow. Sam's eyes lit up as he took in the change as well.

"It's a shield, Dean! He has a magic shield of some kind and it's wearing down."

Wearing down? Dean could live with that. He raised his gun one more time, taking aim between Dresden's eyes. He pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened.

Dean had a moment's panicked thought where he wondered if he'd imagined that last bullet. The next time he pulled the trigger he heard a familiar sickening thunk. His gun was jammed. Shit. Dresden, on the other hand, had a fierce grin on his face as he raised his staff.

Dean's next thought was trying to figure out how his head had been planted in the wall behind him.

* * *

Bella had seen nothing of the violent exchange between the brothers and Dresden. She'd wisely chosen to keep her head down, feeling no twinge of shame in hiding behind Sam. Earlier, when Dresden had mentioned his home being attacked, Sam had shot her a look that somehow managed to be questioning and accusing at the same time, but all she'd done was smile and shrug nonchalantly. The less the brothers knew the better.

Her ears ringing from the shots that had been fired, she stared in fascination as Dean literally flew into view over the top of the desk, only to crash partially through the wall a few feet behind him. Sam cried out for his brother but was smart enough not to go for him. Instead he kicked the desk in front of him, putting enough force into his long leg to send it sliding into Dresden's hip. Sam wasn't far behind it, swinging his now empty shotgun expertly toward the other man's chin.

Bella opted not to stay for the end of that sequence; it was long past time she was out of there. One hand strayed and caressed a sizeable lump under her trench, ensuring that it was still in place. Her eyes widened a bit. Had it just purred?

She experienced a moment of tension as she opened the door. The illogical side of her was worried that Dresden was maintaining some sort of lock spell while battling the Winchester brothers. Thankfully, whatever he'd used had only been temporary, and the door came open easily enough. As simple as that, she was out of the tiny motel room, hopefully with no one the wiser.

Rain still pattered gently all around, but significantly lighter than before. Another ten minutes and the spring storm would probably blow over entirely. The broken sidewalk glittered with yet more broken glass, and barring a streetlight a hundred yards down the road, everything was pitch black. At first she'd expected the parking lot to be full of people wandering aimlessly around, poking at the glass and speculating on what had happened, but with a smile she realized why it was deserted. Lovely things, gunshots. They kept all of the bystanders out of the way, and soon they'd bring police as well.

Her phone beaming a small amount of light onto the ground, Bella began walking in the opposite direction of her car. Anyone with half a brain would have sabotaged it in some way before they came after her. She needed to acquire a new one. For a brief moment, she considered taking Dean's with a dreamy smile, but no, even she knew when to stop pushing her luck.

The thief's steps were bringing her close to a bloated, powder blue boat of a car also known as a late 80's model Cadillac. Her lip curled in distain, but really it was almost exactly what she needed. It was the last thing anyone would expect to find her in, and it was old, thus easier to manipulate. Plus--she tried to door and grinned--it wasn't even locked.

The Cadillac had just rumbled to life when someone casually leaned against the driver side door. Bella jumped and starred in shock…she hadn't even heard him coming. The man on her car wore a shirt of deep emerald, and sported his black leather jacket with the easy grace of someone accustomed to money. Though his arms were crossed innocently over his chest, she could clearly see the small gun he had pointed at her head.

His weight shifted effortlessly and she could see his face coming into view as he lowered his head. Black hair with natural curls she had to fight not to touch framed a pale face Hollywood had been trying to perfect for decades. His blue eyes held a kind of self deprecating humor and the crooked smile he wore had a feel of permanence to it. The gun moved slightly as he used it to gesture toward the window.

Bella's surprise only showed for a moment before her own smile was in place. Slowly, with deliberate, exaggerated movements, she rolled her window down. "Thomas, it's always a pleasure to see you."

He nodded gallantly. "Good evening, Bella," he glanced around the car pointedly. "I'd come to expect something a little different of you."

She shrugged one shoulder, "A girl has the right to change her mind from time to time."

Thomas sighed a bit and pushed himself off the car, "Come on, out you go. Time to go back and face those poor boys you duped."

"Which ones?" She blinked innocently.

The man before her shook his head slightly, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but either way you're coming with me."

"Was that a pun?"

Thomas didn't dignify that with an answer.

* * *

Sam had been fighting for as long as he could remember. When someone spends their life combating things that aren't human, they learn certain rules, patterns and stereotypes to consult when faced with a new foe. He'd learned that when something relies on spells or psychic abilities to toss people around, they generally don't want to be up close and personal with their enemy. Close the space, win the fight. It was a simple enough tactic.

And he'd been trying to do just that. He really had.

Sam and Dean stood together in the room's back corner where they'd first seen Dresden. Dean's cheek had been cut back when the window had exploded, and the trailing blood made odd patterns in the stubble along his jaw. The eye on that side had begun to purple and swell, giving him an asymmetrical look.Sam himself was sporting a busted lip, an alarmingly loose tooth, and he was doing his best to ignore the fact that the back of his head was abnormally light and he constantly smelled burned hair.

Dresden was on the opposite side of the room from them, leaning heavily against the wall behind him. The bandage around his shin had turned almost completely black in the shadows and sweat dripped from the end of his nose. They were all breathing heavily and glaring warily at one another.

"You know," Dresden said, wiping his mouth. "I'm doing my best not to kill you two, but you're making it pretty damn hard."

Dean scoffed, "Don't do us any favors, buddy. We're here as long as you're after Bella. Can't have you killing her on our watch."

Dresden smiled, "You're still trying to protect Bella, huh?"

"That's right."

"How's that working out for ya?"

Sam didn't have to look to feel Dean's incredulous blink. He did, however, risk taking his eyes off Dresden long enough to scan the room. It was a tiny room, it didn't take long.

Bella was gone.

Dean's snarled curse mirrored the string of them going off in Sam's head. She'd done it to them again, and Sam had fallen for it. "Twelve beers, Sammy," he heard Dean growling under his breath. "Twelve beers."

There was a sound of rustling clothing as Dresden made himself more comfortable against his wall, "Don't worry, she won't have gotten too far."

That made Sam a little worried in spite of himself, "How would you know that?"

Dresden gave him a cheesy grin, "The Shadow knows."

"Hey, look what I caught," came a smug voice from the doorway. Both of the brothers jumped in surprise, nerves frazzled from the night's activities. Sam might have been imagining it, but it looking like Dresden startled a bit too. What was left of the curtain had finally bowed in acquiescence to the rain, leaving him little light to study features of the tall man with tousled hair that stood outlined in the doorway. He didn't need much light to see the gun he was holding, however, or to see that it was aimed at Bella, who stood cross and sullen a few feet ahead of him. "I tried to throw it back, but what do you know, nothing would take her."

The moment Bella's presence was made known, the relaxed air that Dresden had slowly been adopting evaporated. His eyes narrowed dangerously and his back stiffened. He might have been imagining it, but there was a buzzing in the back of Sam's head, like someone's bass playing far away, and he could have sworn that the source was Dresden's staff.

"Bella," he said quietly, "I'm honestly not that upset about you lying to me and then stealing from me. It's the fact that you distracted me. When you ran, I chased after you at a time that I shouldn't have, and because of that a good friend of mine was hurt." Sam could hear wood creaking from where he was gripping his staff. "She was really hurt. I don't know if I can forgive you for that."

Bella showed the depths of her intelligence in two ways at that moment. One, she said nothing. Two, she looked afraid, very afraid.

Sam felt like he should say something at that point, but he had no idea what to say. It was then that he heard Dean sigh, followed by the chilling sound of a gun cocking.

"Hate to do this to you, Dresden, I really do," Dean said. Everyone turned to find him aiming a newly loaded shotgun at the exhausted caster.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam hissed. All of his fear was settling in the pit of his stomach, making him sick inside. He looked from the man in the doorway, to the gun in his hand pointed at Bella, to Dresden clutching his staff, to Dean with a gun pointed at Dresden. This could all go downhill very fast, and all it would take was one person making a stupid mistake. Sam prayed his brother hadn't already made it.

"Thing is," said Dean, and Sam could hear the regret in his voice, "I understand where you're coming from, man, and I'm real sorry about your friend. I am. But you see, Bella has something that I can't just walk away from, and the only way for me get it right now is to get her away from you two."

Sam sighed. The Colt. Somehow, in all the excitement, it had slipped from his mind for a brief second. If they got Bella away from here, she'd get the Colt back for them, or so she'd said. There was nothing to say that she wasn't lying. Then again, she'd never actually _lied_ to them in the past.

Silence fell thick, heavy, and more oppressive than the shadows around them. No one dared move, everyone watched each other warily. There was a fear in the air, that and the knowledge that as soon as someone moved, it was going to start a chain reaction of events that couldn't possibly end well.

That's about the point where Sam realized it might be getting worse.

"Um…" he said quietly, barely above a whisper, "that fog wasn't there five minutes ago."

Not everyone could see out the window without turning their back to the rest of the room, but Sam, Dean, and Dresden watched as a fog steadily slid into the motel's parking lot. Against the wind. They shouldn't have been able to see it as clearly as they did in an almost absolute darkness. It was there, though, glowing softly from the inside, rolling around cars and crawling toward their room with an almost sentient purpose.

Dresden sighed, "This day just keeps getting better and better."

"You know what that is?" Sam demanded, "Are we supposed to fight that thing?"

"Depends," Dresden said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"On what?"

"How good are you at chucking water balloons?"

* * *

**JadeAnime:** Mew! This is the ever-glorious beta. Just wanted to say my own word of thanks to all that have reviewed, you've made Pissy and I very happy. :3 dances And I have to say, I love being a beta. Cause I get to reads all this before the rest of you suckers. :o cackles But really, I'm terribly enthralled with this already… And I'm helping come up with the ideas. O.o Tells you how awesome Pissy is, that even though I know the basics of what's going to happen, I'm still drooling at the mouth, waiting for the next chapter like any other rabid fan. Or maybe I'm the only rabid one. That or it's that minty foot powder I was munching on earlier. D


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: Hey guys, just correcting myself on something. Last chapter, I said that Thomas' eyes were blue. Dunno what came over me, since they're gray, but I just wanted to apologize for that and promise that his eye color will be correct in future chapters. :)

Again, thank you all so much for the reviews, and thanks to JadeAnime, the ever faithful beta.

* * *

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Dean narrowed his eyes and leaned his head forward as though he hadn't heard correctly. "Water balloons…like…fill with cold water and shove down your sister's shirt water balloons?"

"Kinda," Dresden said with a shrug, "if your sister was a vampire and the balloons were full of holy water."

Sam looked at the approaching fog nervously, "Um…we've fought vampires before. Holy water was pretty much useless."

Dresden shot him a look that appeared almost surprised. Sam supposed he'd been expected to have a different response. There was an agonizing pause while Dresden continued to eye him and Sam could feel the fog approaching. Finally he said, "They probably weren't Black Court vampires then. These guys are straight up Buffy 101. Stakes, holy water, garlic and the sort. Which my car is full of, so we should head that way." His eyes flicked between the brothers quickly, "I propose a truce for the duration of this fight and for two hours after."

Dean and Sam looked at each other before nodding slowly.

Dresden's eyes locked on Sam's before he said, "Swear it."

Sam was about to agree outright, but something in the way Dresden held himself said that he shouldn't give his word lightly. He held the man's gaze for a moment, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into, and more importantly, why it seemed so imperative that he be the one to make the agreement. A gentle tugging began to make itself noted in the back of his head and he looked away instinctively, "I swear it."

"As do I," Dresden said, then turned to the other man. "Thomas? If you please…"

The man in the doorway tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans and headed for the desk Sam had overturned. The evening's excitement had landed it in the completely opposite corner from where it had started. It was now partially propped on a bed, singed, and buried beneath…a shower curtain? Sam had a sudden twinge of pity for the motel owner. Thomas grabbed hold of one of the desk legs, then cleanly snapped it off with the amount of care Sam would've shown to a dead twig. His eyes widened slightly at that, but he suppressed the urge to ask any questions.

As Thomas continued breaking the desk legs off into obvious stakes, Dresden moved toward Bella with an exaggerated slide. He shoved his staff under one arm before daintily taking the lapels of her trench in each of his hands. "I'm going to pretend like I'm not enjoying this, kay?" he said, before unceremoniously jerking her coat open and reaching in to pull out a simple, bleached human skull. Bella made a small sound of protest, but wisely kept from reaching for the skull as Dresden gave it a cursory inspection and stuffed it inside his own duster.

In the darkness, Sam wasn't able to get a good look at it, but he could have sworn that he saw a flicker of orange light come from the skull's eye sockets as it disappeared into Dresden's coat. He was, however, mostly sure that he'd imagined a muffled voice coming from where it had disappeared saying, "…breasts…."

Sam shook his head before he started staring and moved to cover the window, placing his back against the wall near it, gun at the ready. "You'd think that with all the gunshots someone would have called the police by now," he said.

Dean had apparently been following the same train of thought, as he already had the room's phone up to his ear. "Lines have been cut," he said grimly, then disappeared behind one of the beds and began swiftly sorting through his bag.

Sam sighed and pulled out his cell phone. Usually a police presence went a long way toward scaring off the supernatural. Unfortunately… "Damn," he growled. "I can't get a signal."

"You're probably not going to either," said Dresden, "there's been too much magic flying around. It tends to screw with cute, delicate little things like cell phones. It's for the best though, cop plus preternatural baddie usually equals dead cop. Or worse." Sam sighed and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"Ah-ha!" Dean cried from out of view. He rose from his crouch with a bag slung over one shoulder and two boxes of ammo clutched in one hand. "Dad's consecrated shots," he said by way of explanation, "gotta be better than nothing." He tossed Sam a box along with his duffel. Luckily they hadn't been in their room long and hadn't been given a lot of time to unpack. After a moment's hesitation, Dean passed a handful of bullets to Thomas, who nodded gratefully before trading it for one of his makeshift stakes. Thomas also tossed a stake to Dresden and Sam respectively, and thus armed they were as ready as they were going to be.

Dresden's gaze swept over the room, making sure everyone was prepared. "Ok, boys and girl, this is how things need to go: I'll take point, Thomas has rear guard. Sam and Dean, I need you two to guard the flanks and Bella," he handed her his stake, "you sit tight in the middle and make like Van Helsing if something gets through. Fortunately my car is thataway and not where our boys are coming from." He paused for a second, making sure the brothers were listening, "These vampires are from the Black Court, which makes them arguably the strongest of the courts. Lucky for us they also pretty much walk straight out of a Bram Stoker novel. Be smart and you might get out of this alive."

Dean looked up from where he was reloading his gun, "Hey, thanks for the lesson, professor, but those things are almost here, think we could maybe get moving at some point?"

Dresden's brow furrowed, "No one likes a smart ass."

There was a sigh from the back of the room and Thomas said, "So which one of you is the pot, and which is the kettle?"

Sam took a breath, prepared to remind everyone of the impending death that was creeping ever closer, but Dresden ducked wordlessly out the door and everyone else followed suit, easily slipping into position. Once outside, he realized with a start that the fog had stopped about five rooms down from theirs, forming a neat semi circle that effectively blocked off that entire half of the parking lot. Other than that, everything was calm; the night held an unnatural stillness usually reserved for deep winter and morgues. The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind enough mud and standing puddles to cause everyone to think twice about their footing.

Dresden took a hard right and everyone immediately followed, moving with the precision of a heavily armed school of fish. Sam did his best to stay focused, eyes scanning windows and shadows for any movement. His gun was steady, showing no nervous twitches lest he accidentally shoot a person on accident. Nothing moved, however, which was odd. At least someone should have heard the fight or noticed the odd fog and tried to leave.

"I don't like this," came Thomas' harsh whisper. "We're being herded."

"I know," said Dresden, long legs never breaking stride despite his limp, "but we don't have much of a choice."

Everyone lapsed back into silence. Their trek hadn't been a long one, but it was straining nonetheless thanks to the glaring lack of activity. They were almost to the edge of the parking lot before Dresden finally began to slow down. It was Dean's voice that pierced the night.

"That is NOT a car!"

Sam's eyes shifted involuntarily to check the source of his brother's outcry. His first thought was, _that couldn't be his car_…but there weren't any others nearby. Hunkered forlornly in the dark was what was left of an old Volkswagen Beetle. It was rusted, dirty, and so many of the panels had been replaced that none of the colors matched. On the hood, some enterprising soul had spray painted the number 53, and one of the windows was dark and looked suspiciously like it was being held together with duct tape. It was sad, hideous, and almost bad enough for Sam to miss the vampire sitting on its roof.

Somewhere around a year prior, Sam, Dean, and their father had taken out a nest of vampires. They'd looked human, stood in the daylight with barely a flinch, and had withstood all of the stereotypical vampire banes. The thing that sat on Dresden's car was nothing like them. It looked like, quite simply, a rotting corpse. It sat with its legs crossed, hands resting comfortably on its knees. Sam couldn't make out many details in the dark, but he could see that its skin had begun to gain a greenish cast a whither away, rendering the skeleton underneath all the more noticeable.

When Dresden neared, it tilted its head to the side. "Ah, wizard," it said, its voice as dry and crackling as its skin, but through it Sam could tell that it was male. "My master wishes a parlay with you."

Dresden shifted his feet slightly, spreading his weight evenly between them as he brought his staff up in a guard, "Tell him I'm not in the mood. I'm still healing up from the 'parlay' we had earlier this week."

The vampire's head jerked to the other side, quick and jerking like a bird, "He would leave you alone if you would but give him what he desires."

"You and I both know that isn't gonna happen, so hows about you get off my car, hmm? You're scratching the paint."

There was a pause as the vampire blinked, then it threw its head back and laughed, the sound of it bringing to Sam's mind the image of sandpaper on concrete.

It continued to laugh right up until Thomas took aim and blew off its jaw.

The shriek it let out was piercing, echoing off the motel and almost drowning out Dresden as he shifted his staff and bellowed, "_Forzare_!" A brief light rippled through the runes of his staff and the vampire went flying backward into the dark. Dresden didn't seem to wait to see where it landed; he was heading for the front of the Beetle.

More gunshots sounded to Sam's left and he whirled to see Dean opening fire on a second vampire that must have been hiding behind a group of cars fifty yards away. Dean's shots rang out steadily, systematically, and Sam watched in morbid fascination as its eyes disappeared into a gaping crater that opened in its skull, the wound smoking slightly from the consecrated bullets. One knee exploded in a burst of gore and a chunk of its hip was ripped away, but it simply dropped to its knees and crawled toward them on three limbs, arms and legs skittering with the uneven grace of a spider. Despite its injuries it moved fast, impossibly fast, and was a mere five yards away when Dean's gun clicked empty.

No sooner had Sam heard the first click, when Thomas picked up Dean's fire, taking out a hand on one side and an elbow on the other.

It had all happened in the matter of a few seconds, and Sam shifted his aim back to cover Dresden. The wizard had opened the Beetle's trunk and was shoving garlic and a few water balloons, already filled, into the apparently endless pockets of his duster. He saw Sam watching him and tossed him one underhanded. Sam raised a hand to catch it, and it was then that the first vampire came vaulting over Dresden's car.

It cleared the tiny car effortlessly, its leap carrying it straight toward Sam. He only had time to fire off a single shot that caught it mid chest, and then the vampire landed squarely on top of him.

Sam had had a gentler impact from a moving car. He went down under the vampire's weight, the back of his head slapping sharply against the sidewalk, causing his vision to burst into tiny motes of light. The balloon Dresden had given him rolled uselessly from his boneless fingers and Sam was dimly aware of the vampire's face looming inches above his, its shriveled tongue dancing freely from the lack of jaw. Sam blinked furiously, trying to get his vision to clear or his brain to work. Either would have been nice, but as the vampire began to lower its head, he knew his efforts were useless.

Teeth had just begun to graze Sam's neck when it suddenly let out a slathering hiss. The vampire jerked convulsively, hands instinctively clawing at the back of its neck as burns began to spread along the base of its head. It fell over to one side, still pawing, to reveal Dresden towering behind it, glowing staff in one hand, pink water balloon held menacingly in the other.

* * *

Dean had never seen anything like the vampire before him. The wounds he'd inflicted upon it had barely slowed it down, and even though the damage Thomas had dealt on top of that would have given even a zombie pause, it rapidly closed what little distance was left and reached for Dean. He was barely halfway through reloading his gun.

There was a blur of motion and Thomas was driving his knee into its back, crashing the vampire into the ground. A stake was already in his hand and he slammed it into the undead's back, bracing it with one hand and putting his entire weight behind it with the other. The blow struck true, landing directly over its heart with crushing force. Dean was a little disappointed, honestly. He'd hoped that the vampire would've burst into dust or flames Buffy style, but instead it simply went limp and did nothing more.

Thomas looked up at Dean, a stray lock of hair falling artfully across one eye, and nodded. The man wasn't even winded.

That's when Dean heard a gunshot behind him and spun just in time to see Sam go down under the first vampire. Sam's head hit the pavement with an audible crack and he went limp. "Sam!" Dean yelled, raising his now loaded gun, but Dresden had already covered the distance with impossibly wide steps and unceremoniously slammed a water balloon onto the back of the vampire's neck. The undead collapsed to the side, pitifully pawing at its burning flesh in a futile effort and Dresden tossed another balloon into its face. Dean wasn't far behind with his stake in hand, and soon the last vampire's cries were silenced.

The quiet night pressed in once again and everyone glanced around making sure the others were alright. Dean knelt beside Sam, fingers slipping behind his head to gently probe for any fractures. "I'm fine," Sam mumbled, sitting up on his own. He blinked exaggeratedly and shook his head once, then began to climb unsteadily to his feet.

"Take it easy, Sasquatch," Dean said, grabbing an arm to help him, "last thing we need is you yacking all over the parking lot and giving the cops a trail to follow."

Dean looked up to see Bella white-faced and silent, gripping her stake in violently shaking hands. She looked like she could fall over at any second, and she probably could have helped at least a little during the fight, but hey, at least she hadn't run off. Yet.

"Fog's still here," Thomas said quietly, eyeing their surroundings.

"Yeah," Dresden said, "and they slashed my tires."

Dean looked over to see the Abomination Dresden called a car sitting forlornly on its airless tires and slowly bending rims. "It's justice…" Dean muttered under his breath.

"Hey!" Dresden snapped, "It's _mine_," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, well it isn't getting us away from here anytime soon. We can use my car," Dean flinched inwardly at the thought of the collateral damage his car would take if anymore of those things showed up.

"Sounds like a plan," the wizard agreed. "Lead the way."

Dean didn't waste any time. Sam was standing fine on his own now, so the eldest Winchester took point and began heading back in the direction they'd come. Thomas fell to the back again, gun cocked and ready, and Dresden lengthened his stride a bit to catch up with Dean. Again, they walked in silence, and again, their path was uneventful as his car came into view. The '67 Impala sat faithful and ready as ever, its black finish soaking in the darkness around it. Off to his right, he could hear Dresden grumbling something about overcompensation and Dean couldn't help but grin a little.

The fog was still idling comfortably where it had been earlier, resting at about ten parking spaces down from the Impala. Dean had his keys in hand, his pace quickening involuntarily, when he heard something behind him. Dread filled his stomach as he turned to see two more vampires melting out of the shadows behind him. These were female, and much more preserved than the two they'd fought earlier.

"Oh give me a god damn break," Dean growled.

"Get everyone into the car," Dresden said quietly. "I don't have a lot left in me, but I should be able to hold them off for a second."

He almost protested, but he honestly couldn't see many more options available to them. Finally, he nodded.

Dean broke into a sprint, closing the last few yards to his car and began unlocking it as he heard Dresden yell for everyone to follow. Sam was right behind him, pulling a full on Dukes of Hazard as he slid over the hood and dove for the passenger door. Bella wasn't far behind, being prodded along by Thomas who slipped into the back seat behind her. As the car rumbled to life, Dean looked to see Dresden still standing where they'd left him. His staff was raised and glowing again, the vampires continued to close in slowly, taking their time.

"Circle around behind him," Thomas said, "we're going to need to be able to grab him quickly."

"Way ahead of ya," Dean replied, car already in reverse.

As he slapped the gear into drive, Dean looked up to see the runes of Dresden's staff suddenly flash white. Flame erupted at the feet of the vampires, yellow at first, but the fire flared a second time and it took on a bluish white hue. The two undead barely had time to scream as the blaze wholly engulfed them, reducing them to ash in a matter of seconds. Once their bodies had disappeared, the flame followed, vanishing without so much as a scorch mark on the pavement.

It had all been over in the space of a breath.

"Holy shit…" Dean heard Thomas whisper.

Dresden's legs had started to give out as Dean pulled up beside him. Thomas threw open the back door and the wizard collapsed inside, requiring the aid of both Bella and Thomas to crawl in the rest of the way. Dean didn't even wait for them to close the door again before he peeled out, guiding the Impala onto the highway and (hopefully) away from trouble. In the rearview, he could see that the fog had already started to dissipate.

Eventually, the door was shut and Dresden managed to pull himself out of Bella and Thomas' respective laps and prop up against the window. His head lolled and from the look of him, he was barely conscious. No one said anything for several minutes, intent as they were on looking for yet more signs of trouble. Time stretched on, and slowly everyone began to relax. As the lights of a city came into view, a collective sigh was released.

"Did you get a look at what those vampires back there were wearing?" Thomas asked quietly.

Dresden snickered drunkenly, "Really, man, you take your job with the fashion police way too seriously."

Thomas' eyes narrowed, "You know what I mean. Vans, spiked belts…hell one of them had an emover. Those things were babies. I'd put them at maybe a month dead if they'd sat out in the heat."

"Yeah," the wizard said, sobering up, "they were lightweights, we got lucky."

"Wait, whoa," Sam spoke up, turning around in his seat, "you mean that those things we fought back there were just peons?"

Thomas sighed, "Yeah pretty much. If we'd gone against four typical members of the Black Court, there's no way we'd still be standing."

No one spoke for another couple of minutes. "The ones that attacked us at my apartment earlier this week were young too," Dresden almost whispered. He and Thomas exchanged a meaningful look.

Dean wanted to ask what the hell they were talking about, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't be getting any answers out of them for awhile yet. Instead, he cast a glance at his watch, "I've got a full tank of gas and we have about two hours left until sunrise. I think we should stay on the move until then. What do you guys want to do after that?"

Dresden sighed and let his head fall against the back of the seat, his eyes already closed, "After that? I need a beer."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Um, yeah, I apologize profusely for the amount of time it took me to update T.T I'd like to say that there's a good excuse in there, but the truth of the matter is that I was not-so-briefly distracted by shiny things. I chose to blame JadeAnime, as she is my dealer. However, she has most cunningly taken to holding her own updates hostage to make me write and…well…it works. Weekly updates seem to work best, so that's what I'll be striving for in the future 3

Need to say a couple of other things really quick though:

To Joanna: Aye, that was a refenece to the Bram Stoker novel, thanks for asking :D

Also thanks to everyone who pointed out some of the inconsistencies/writing errors that made it through. I have a bad habit of rushing my chapters and posting them before I should, so any help in bringing things I missed to light is always appreciated. And tytyty to everyone that took the time to review, makes me most happy inside. Hope to hear from everyone again in the next chapter...the one that I promise _won't _be a month in coming XD

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Keeping on the road for two hours was hardly a problem in rural Nebraska. However, finding a place that served alcohol at eight in the morning was a completely different matter. In the end, they'd had to settle for a twenty-four hour convenience store that sat just off the highway. Said convenience store was, in fact, convenient, in that it was nestled within walking distance of a nearly deserted rest area. Despite the fact that it was so close, Dean chose to drive the distance, making sure his car was within easy reach should something go down again, sunlight or no sunlight.

Dresden sat atop one of the few picnic tables, his feet spread slightly and planted comfortably on the seat, arms resting on his knees. In one hand, he held his staff braced against the opposite shoulder, as his beer was gripped awkwardly in his lame hand. The man was days late for a shave, and even his hair drooped listlessly. He swayed slightly, eyes starring at some indeterminable point within the uncut grass along the highway.

Everyone else settled around the rest area, leaning against trash cans or sitting at other tables. Dean wondered if they even realized they'd formed a wary circle, each facing the other. He himself climbed up to sit beside Dresden, unconsciously mirroring the other man's pose.

"You know," he said quietly, "that truce you proposed was up fifteen minutes ago."

Dresden merely grunted, not looking up from his phantom focal point. He raised his staff slightly, "Beat your head against this."

Dean chuckled mildly and took a drink of his beer, "Yeah, the mood's gone."

The silence that fell between them was almost comfortable. Cars whizzed by in a steady hum, and off to the side Sam and Thomas were talking quietly. Dean was sure that if he'd tried, he could hear what they were saying, but he knew Sam would fill him in later. For now, the table was comfy, and his beer was tasty.

After awhile Dresden spoke up softly, "You two been at this awhile?"

"Yeah," Dean glared at the tiny amount of beer left jiggling at the bottom of his bottle, "my dad and I saw something back when Sam was a baby. My dad…he wasn't the kind of person to let things like that just slip past him. He did his homework, figured out what was hiding in the dark, and started hunting the bastards down. He taught Sammy and me everything we know." He leaned over the side of the table and grabbed two more bottles, passing one to Dresden, "How about you? How'd you get into this business?"

"Born into it," Dresden wiggled his staff, "wizard and all that. Sorta runs in the genes."

"A real live wizard, huh?" Dean shook his head and grinned. "I've seen things that would make a lesser man piss himself, and there's still stuff that surprises me. Never thought for a minute that wizards were real."

"We're a stoicy sort. Adds mystique to the image."

Dean snorted and they lapsed into silence again. Eventually, Dean's eye fell on Bella. "So how does she fit into things?"

Dresden followed his gaze. "Oh the usual. She showed up at my office all teary-eyed, swearing that someone was trying to kill her. In all fairness, she was attacked later, and I brought her back to my apartment for safety. Unfortunately later that night baddies from my end of the block came after me and while I was taking care of them she nabbed my skull and made a run for it." At the mention of his skull, the wizard's eyes widened slightly and one hand flew to his coat. Apparently finding the skull's reassuring lump, he sighed and relaxed visibly.

"What is that thing, anyway?" Dean asked, gesturing toward the bulge in Dresden's side.

The wizard's mouth twisted on one side in a slight grin, "It has sentimental value."

Dean felt his eyes narrow in suspicion. Bella said that Dresden had killed to get that skull; killed the man that had raised him, no less. While he was sure there was far more to the story then that simple fact, the thought dumped cold water on the growing sense of like that he'd felt toward the wizard. Still, he'd helped save their lives, and in the meantime Bella had almost gotten them killed. Again. While Dean made it a point to never fully trust anyone, Dresden seemed a far safer bet than Bella at the moment. Shady past or no shady past.

There were more important things to worry about anyway. "She told us that you were trying to kill her, you know. Obviously you weren't…so maybe the guy that she wanted your protection from was somewhere along the same lines?"

Dresden shook his head, "Maybe, but my gut says he was really trying to kill her."

"How so?"

"He opened a thirty foot sinkhole under her car with her inside for one."

Dean frowned exaggeratedly and nodded in acquiescence, "Yeah, that could be a little convincing. She say why?"

"According to her, he's an old enemy of the family. But in light of recent illuminations on certain aspects of her character, I'm inclined to come to the conclusion that, well, she's a lying bitch."

Dean choked, almost losing the drink he'd just taken, "Yeah that's putting it mildly." There was another pause as Dean pondered the best way to breach the next question, "And those vampires from earlier? How do they tie into all this?"

It was Dresden's turn to glare at his empty bottle, "They don't. Not really anyway. They were after me, not Bella." His eyes cut to Dean for a moment, and he answered the next question before it could be asked. "They want something from me, something I can't give them."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't," Dresden said with a wry smile. "It's literally out of my realm of possibility."

"Ah, gotchya," Dean knew better than to ask any more than that. Truthfully, he was a little surprised that Dresden had been so forthcoming. If someone had been asking him the same questions, he'd have sent them packing.

He glanced at his watch; only thirty minutes had passed since they'd started their rest. Still, even if this breed of vampire supposedly slept during the day, Dean didn't like the idea of sitting around doing nothing. The hunter in him screamed that no matter how complicated things seemed now, they would only get worse. It also tugged on his ear and whispered that people were going to get hurt. A cold weight settled on his shoulders, almost tangible.

_Don't you have something else you should be worrying about_? a voice whispered in his head. Yeah, he did. That didn't change things though. Recently he'd had more than a couple of arguments with the more self serving half of himself. Every time he thought about taking a job, it pleaded with him to pass on, to devote his attention to a more pressing matter. He sighed, eyes moving of their own accord to where Sam was still speaking with Thomas. Sam had his hands plunged into his pockets, listening intently as Thomas said something quietly from where he leaned against a tree. He felt an involuntary tightening around his eyes as he finally got a good look at Thomas in the clear morning sunlight. Really, it should have been illegal for a guy to be that pretty. He made a silent vow not to hit up any bars with the other man.

_Three months, Dean_, that annoying voice in his mind poked again. He heaved another sigh, glaring a bit too intently at the passing traffic. Nine months ago, he'd quite literally made a deal with the devil. People were usually so quick to say that they'd do anything for their loved ones, but Dean…he really had. When Sam had died, stabbed in the back, sacrificed to a sick demonic game, Dean had signed his life away. He'd summoned yet another demon and made a simple but damning deal: Sam would live again, and at the end of one year, Dean himself would go straight to hell. As a safeguard, the demon had added one more stipulation. If Dean or anyone around him made an attempt to wiggle out of their contract, Sam would drop dead on the spot. It had been his only solution at the time, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat, but those thoughts did little to mask the steady tick-tocking that was constantly sounding in the back of his head.

An odd feeling tickled at his awareness and Dean turned to see Dresden watching him closely, an unspoken question in his eyes. Dean figured he must have been doing some hardcore brooding and said the first thing that came to mind to draw attention away from himself: "Looks like Sammy and I are still stuck with Bella," he said glumly.

A look of pious sympathy crossed the wizard's face, "Really? Why's that?"

The nosy thief must have been listening in the entire time. At the mention of her name, she slid from her own picnic table and began walking toward them, arms crossed over her chest in a deceptively humble pose. "Something told me that our contract would be nullified after the way I left you, Harry. I made the Winchesters an offer to pick up where you left off."

Dean blinked dubiously, "Harry. You're a wizard named Harry…"

Dresden cut off his train of thought with a sternly raised hand, "I should warn you that any Harry Potter references will be answered with ye ol' Curse of Eternal Jock Itch."

There was a pause as Dean silently weighed his options. In the end he settled with a quiet and horrified, "Yikes."

Bella had watched the exchange with a slight derisive smile, "That aside, I believe the best way for us to find the man that's after me is to return to Chicago. Don't cock your eyebrow at me, Dean, I have a home there and every time I've been attacked it's been in that city."

"Really? Every single time?"

She sighed, "Yes."

"Hey, here's a thought: How about you just not go there anymore? Save us all a lot of trouble." He raised his beer to her in a mock toast before taking another drink.

"Yes, of course," Bella smiled smoothly, matching Dean's sarcastic tone, "because he would be content to simply sit there and wait for me indefinitely. At least at the moment we have an idea of where he is. Waiting would only complicate things," she turned to Dresden and lifted one delicate brow. "Am I right?"

Dresden's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Feel free to not involve me in this, alright?"

Dean groaned and rubbed his face roughly with one hand, "So what're we dealing with here anyway? Last I checked, your average hit man doesn't open giant sinkholes."

"Another wizard, I'm afraid," Bella cocked her head to the side. "A black one. The man after me doesn't carry the same chivalrous scruples as our friend here."

Images of exploding windows and insta-fried vampires danced in Dean's mind and he hung his head in defeat. Another wizard. Great. Not for the first time in the past few months, he idly wondered if maybe he and Sam could get by without the Colt. They couldn't, he knew, but lately he'd taken up clinging to vain hopes as a hobby. The Colt 45 that Bella had stolen was rumored to be able to kill anything. While Dean had his doubts as to the validity of this, he knew from experience that it could kill demons; not just exorcise them, kill them. Despite years of searching, it was the only thing the Winchesters had found that could pull off such a feat, and at that point, it was all that he and Sam could seize as a way to escape Hell.

Bella herself was cunning and impossible to find. That she had surfaced on her own was a blessing, and he knew that if he lost track of her again, his odds of finding her a second time in three months were next to none. Wizards or no wizards, they had to protect Bella.

Or at least, Dean amended with a smile, keep her safe until they could get to the gun.

It was Dresden's turn to sigh heavily as he gingerly pulled himself to his feet. "Well, while you kids hash this out, I need to go call and have my car towed."

"You can use my cell if you want," Dean suggested, pulling it out of his pocket.

Dresden eyed the offered phone nervously, "Thanks, but I'll just use the payphone. I need to check the phone book anyway."

"Eh, ok," said Dean, as he watched Dresden's back with a slight frown of confusion.

He was about to call Sam over when he noticed his younger brother approaching of his own accord. Behind him, he could see Thomas following Dresden back toward the convenience store. He couldn't help but notice the graceful way Thomas seemed to stalk the wizard and glared again. Nope, definitely no bars.

"Dean, can I talk to you in private for a minute?" Sam asked, glancing briefly at Bella.

"Yeah sure," the brothers crossed the thirty yards or so to the edge of the rest area, making sure that Bella was still in sight, just not hearing range. "What's up?"

"I've been talking to Thomas about those vampires we fought earlier," Sam began, watching Bella as she made herself comfortable at Dean's former table.

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly, "And?"

"And…I think we should offer our help," Sam made the statement as though it were obvious.

"Um, sure, except for the part where we're already busy with Bella," Dean said, crossing his arms. "We don't really have time to run off vampire hunting."

"I asked Thomas about that too," Sam said gravely. "She's got a wizard after her."

"I know, she told me that too."

"And have you ever hunted a wizard, Dean?"

Dean glared, "You know the answer to that one."

"Yeah, I know. You haven't," Sam's jaw set stubbornly, "and neither have I. Or Bobby. Or Ellen. I don't think any of the hunters we know have. In all the years we've been in this business and all the books we've read, we've never run across any decent information concerning wizard lore."

"You're babbling, Sammy," Dean deadpanned.

"My point is that, given the time constraints we have, we'll be walking into this thing totally blind. If I haven't run across any viable information yet, odds are that it would take me weeks at best to come up with something, and in case you haven't noticed, we don't _have_ weeks."

Dean felt his eyes slide to where Dresden was idly flipping through a giant phonebook. It was too far away from him to see the man's expression, but he could imagine the wizard's defiant scowl as he willed a decent towing agency to reveal itself. "You want to use Harry for information," it was a statement, not a question.

"Of course I do. Right now he's the only-" Sam paused mid sentence and squinted. "His first name is Harry?"

The elder Winchester shook his head stiffly, "Don't bring it up, he gets testy."

Sam's lips twitched for a moment before he sobered again, getting back on subject, "But yes, he's the best source of information we could hope for under any circumstances. Right now he just happens to be the only one too."

"And in return for a little Wizarding 101, we what? Merrily pit ourselves against some old school creatures of the night, clutching crosses and sprinkling holy water all the way?"

"I didn't say it was a perfect plan, Dean, it's just our best one," Sam sighed.

Dean scratched his head and grimaced, "Yeah you're right." A memory of his little brother pinned beneath that jawless horror, inches from death, taunted him mercilessly and his stomach churned. "I just don't have to like it."

Sam nodded and, matter settled, the two began walking back to Bella. When she noticed them approaching, she looked up with a smile.

"Are we heading back to Chicago then?" she asked politely.

Dean looked over her head to see Dresden and Thomas returning as well. "Maybe," he said, "we have one more matter to settle."

Dresden trudged along stubbornly, shoulders hunched against his increasingly more pronounced limp. Dean wondered briefly how he could have forgotten about the giant, blood soaked bandage that still clung to the wizard's shin. Fortunately, the blood had dried by that point but…ew. They'd have to change the dressing before he'd let him back in his car. Jaw set firmly enough that Dean imagined he could hear teeth grinding, Harry seemed pointedly unaware of the holes Thomas was glaring into his back.

"Find anyone?" Dean asked as the other two reached their table.

"Yeah, they're on their way," Dresden ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. "Have you two decided what you're going to do?"

"Looks like we're heading to Chicago," he shot Bella a glare to head off her satisfied smirk. "We can give you a ride if you're heading that far."

"Uh…sure…I live there so that's convenient. Appreciate it," Harry leaned against the picnic table, shifting the weight off his wounded leg.

The seeds of an awkward silence had begun to sprout when Sam spoke up, "Dean and I are picking up Bella's case," he began; unaware that Dean had already covered that base with Dresden earlier. "Really, though, hunting wizards is a little out of our realm of experience. We were hoping that maybe you could shed a little light on the situation for us."

Harry blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but Sam pressed on, "In exchange for helping us with Bella, we'd be more than willing to help you with the things that are chasing you."

Dresden sighed and scratched his gloved hand absently, "Look, I don't have a problem with answering as many of your questions as I can. I'm not the kind of person that would let you walk into a fight like that blind," he paused for a moment and Dean waited for the pending "but".

"But don't worry about the rest. I've got plenty of people on my end already working on it, and I'm sure things'll even out soon enough."

Thomas' glare went from irritated to murderous at Harry's diplomatic, but obvious slight, toward the brothers' offer. "What he's trying to say," the dark haired man said smoothly, "Is that he hasn't slept in three days and hasn't eaten anything other than donuts in more. He's wounded, out of magic, running out of time, and is dangling over the edge of desperation. One of his greatest allies is in physical therapy and the other is laid up in intensive care. Short version: He'd be delighted to accept any aid you might be able to give."

Dresden perked up and looked blankly around him as though searching for something, "I said that? Did I just say that? No, it couldn't have been me. Must've been that obnoxious sidekick that's always following me around and putting words in my mouth."

"Not always," Thomas said with a mocking grin. "Besides, if he did it more often you might get laid more."

The wizard turned to face him, mouth open for a scathing return. He stood like that for a moment, pointing at Thomas, who only waited with calm expectancy. Finally, Dresden closed his mouth and settled for a glower. "I hate you."

Dean only made half an attempt to cover his laugh with a cough, "So…Chicago?"

"Looks like it," Harry grumbled, beginning to head for Dean's car. Everyone else quickly followed suit. Dean and Sam took up the rear, hanging a little behind.

Sam's brow furrowed, "Well, we may be a little over our head with this, but at least we have a shot at getting the Colt back," he cocked his head in thought. "If we live, of course."

Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder, "You're always a ray of sunshine, Sammy."

* * *

As Dean's Impala deftly merged into the highway once again, the convenience store clerk stepped outside to watch. The old man smiled strangely, his eyes bleeding into a solid black as he lifted his cell phone.

* * *

**Note from the Beta:** Yup, the authoress is a lazy bum. But I'm here to fights for your rights, dear readers!! ...and then she puked. And I danced. Praise be to the miles between that kept her from spewing on me. :D


	5. Author's Note

I am now living proof that God hates piracy. As the result of a major power surge that could only have been divine (seeing as how it made it through _two_ surge protectors), my hard drive, along with other key components of my computer, is now most very dead. Of course, that means my latest chapter went with it, and I'm a genius that didn't back up my files. SooOOoOoo much as I hate to do it, I'm going to have to put this fic on hiatus for a bit while I rewrite the monster chapter I was working on (it already had five pages more than what I usually write and I wasn't done T.T). I'm also needing to try and recover pictures of my daughter, as well as about 300 gigs of anime, TV shows, comics/manga, and e-books. I curse the cruel world that is fragile computer parts emo tear

Anywho, I really am sorry about this, and hopefully I can remember enough of chapter five to have it posted in a reasonable amount of time. Until then, ja ne.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**Zomg!! I is back!! *faints from shock* I've saved all my ranting for the end of the chapter (don't you hate lengthy author's notes that take up the beginning?). Anywho, hope you enjoy!

--

Thomas was not happy.

Circumstances could have been much worse, all things considered, but this did little to comfort him as he stared listlessly out the car window. Chasing Bella from Chicago to Towne Pointless, Nebraska had taken the better part of thirty hours. More accurately, it had taken the _Beetle_ that long to make the trip. The disgruntled man grumbled under his breath at the memory.

When searching Bella's Chicago home had turned up nothing, Harry had set out immediately to continue the hunt. Thomas agreed whole heartedly that time was a critical factor in finding both Bella and Bob, but he'd begged his brother--pleaded with him, even--to sacrifice the extra thirty minutes it would have taken to get his Hummer. Harry wouldn't hear any of it, however. The wizard had been enraged, half mad in his desire to hunt down the thief and use her as an outlet for the hatred and guilt he felt for himself. Thomas never wanted to see that look on his little brother's face again.

Still, he had to admit to himself that he hadn't felt much different after seeing Murphy go down. A sigh ghosted his lips as the events of the previous weekend climbed unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

_Harry may have been quickly gaining legendary status in the supernatural community, but a little known truth about his adventures was that more often then not he survived simply through blind luck. In the case of the Black Court's latest attack on his apartment, his luck showed its face in the form of three visitors already inside with him (namely Murphy, Butters, and his ever timely and fashionable big brother). Thomas shuddered to think of what might have happened to the wizard if they hadn't been there to back him up. _

_Still, despite the speed and strength gifted to their court, the attacking vampires were young…and stupid. Had Bella not decided to pull her betrayal mid fight, everyone probably could have gotten out unscathed. That possibility, however, went up in flames the moment Bob's indignant sputtering sounded from the darkness. Thomas himself hadn't heard it, pinned as he was been beneath one of their attackers, but Harry did. From his vantage point, all Thomas saw was Dresden suddenly turn and yell at something further down the street. Murphy spared a quick glance over her shoulder to check on the wizard. Her look took less than a second, but that was all the time a vampire playing opossum needed to snake across the ground with blinding speed and rake its nails across the sergeant's stomach. _

_Time had slowed after that. Thomas watched in horror as Murphy fell slowly, even as her attacker rose from the grass. He was still grappling with his weakening opponent; there was no way he would have been able to reach her. Harry was too far away as well, his staff blaring as it prepared for a spell that would have been far too late. It was one of those moments of perfect clarity, when Thomas knew there was nothing that could be done. _

_It had been tiny, owlish Butters that made the shot._

_Thomas finally broke his attacker's hold, managing to gain control over their struggle. He hadn't seen Murphy's assailant's head suddenly explode into tiny bits of gore. He'd heard the bark of a gun, but when he was finally able to spare her another glance, all he saw was Butters standing a few feet away from her, large eyes blinking comically, Thomas' discarded shotgun still smoking in his hands._

_Everything after that point was a blur of filmy eyes, raspy hisses, and the bone chilling sound of Harry's casting. Once he was certain that all of the vampires were finally and completely dead, he'd descended back into Dresden's living room where Butters had dragged Murphy. The ME's initiative comforted Thomas somewhat. He knew Butters would never have moved Murphy if she were in critical condition._

_The sight that greeted him once he passed the threshold, though, was less than encouraging. Murphy lay on the floor, her shirt shoved up around her neck, blood seeping into the rug beneath her. Butters was at her side, the contents of a first aid kit and several blood-soaked towels strewn about him as he worked frantically, thin lips set in a solemn line. Harry knelt on her other side, helping Butters as best he could. The wizard followed his directions quickly and efficiently, but there was a fae light in his eyes, a trembling in the set of his shoulders, that sent a chill down Thomas' spine._

_And empty night, Murphy was still awake. _

"_There's an ambulance on the way," Butters said, almost managing to keep his voice from shaking._

_Murphy flinched and managed to rasp, "Need to be gone, Harry…hard to explain."_

"_Like hell," Dresden ground out, his words clipped and almost unintelligible from the growl that emerged from his chest. _

_She somehow managed to glare without opening her eyes. "Can't let her have Bob."_

"_You're an idiot if you think I'm going to leave-"_

"_She's right," Thomas cut him off. Dresden whirled to face him, eyes wild, and he was tempted to take a step back. He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to stay calm and measured in the face of his brother's near panic. "She looks bad, but it's just a stomach wound, Harry. With help on the way and Butters working on her now, she shouldn't be in any immediate danger. Bob's a different story, though. For all we know, Bella could already be handing him off to someone. We need to find her now before she has the chance to do any more harm."_

_Harry quite literally snarled. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it with an audible click and shoved a hand in his hair, unconsciously smearing some of Murphy's blood across his forehead. His eyes darted from Murph, to the door, to the basement's trapdoor and back, obviously frantically torn. Finally his eyes focused on Butters, and the ME answered his unspoken question without looking up._

"_A-as long as nothing's perforated and help gets here soon enough she should be fine. The big worry is infection, but we'll need time to know for sure on that one." Thomas winced, remembering the decaying, grime-encrusted fingers of the Black Court. "But Harry," Butters lifted his eyes with effort to look Dresden in the face, "even if you stayed here, you wouldn't be able to be in the hospital with her."_

_Butters might as well have slapped the wizard with that last statement. His shoulders stiffened even more and his head lowered, but it was clear that he'd made his decision. With heartbreaking tenderness, he brushed a lock of hair away from Murphy's face and pressed a small kiss to her forehead. Harry's harsh whisper could be heard clearly in the silent room, "I'm going to find Bob, and then I'm going to come back for you." _

_Murphy nodded sluggishly, eyes unfocused._

_Slowly, Dresden rose to his feet and headed for the door. As for Thomas, he didn't need to be asked. He fell in silent step behind his brother._

The obnoxious sound of tapping fingers pulled Thomas from his reverie. A moment later, he realized the noise was coming from his own hand and clenched his fist against the urge. Teeth ground but his face remained impassive as he pondered how long it had been since his last feeding. Truthfully, it had been far too long. The fight at Harry's apartment, on top of the hunt for Bella, plus yet another fight at the Winchesters' hotel had put a serious strain on his reserves; raising his tension level and plunging him into a foul mood at best.

Thomas didn't miss the fact that Harry had oh-so-shrewdly placed himself between his brother and Bella for the return trip. Part of him longed to be annoyed, even insulted at the gesture. However he couldn't deny the sense of relief he'd felt either. Driving across three states pressed against a practically gift-wrapped morsel that he already couldn't stand was a wee bit too much temptation, even for him. Had he sat beside Bella, things would have most likely ended badly. Well… "badly" really depended on the perspective.

Truthfully, he had no problem with stealing a bit from Bella, but the fact remained that he was exhausted and starving and there was no guarantee that he'd be able to stop himself in time. He had faith in his ability to keep from killing her, but without another food source lined up (such as a line of customers to care for), he wasn't so sure he wouldn't overindulge, leaving her unconscious and the brothers with some explaining to do.

He hadn't even realized that he'd begun staring at the woman until her ragged breathing reached his ears. She peered around Dresden, a look of confused fascination furrowing her brow as the fingertips of one hand unconsciously traced her collar bone. Her other hand twitched slightly as though fighting the urge to use Harry's lap as leverage to climb across the back seat.

Alarm bells began ringing in his head, that little angel on his shoulder telling Thomas that he needed to back off. He meant to listen to it, honestly, but not before a flash of sadistic humor had him reaching out with a small bit of his power, gently brushing along her cheek before withdrawing completely. Bella gasped at the contact, causing Dean to shoot her a curious glance from the driver's seat. She flushed with embarrassment as soon as Thomas' power extracted and leaned back against her window, one hand nervously smoothing her hair.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at his older brother, his look clearly saying: _Ok, that was funny, but watch yourself._

Thomas returned the stare with one of equal intensity: _I know what I'm doing, mind your own damn business._

He received another wizardly eyebrow, probably for good measure, before Dresden relaxed against the seat and returned to attempting a nap.

---

Thomas was almost giddy to note that they entered Chicago proper after a measly sixteen hours on the road. His previous trip with Harry had been slowed by the wizard's constant scrying and the Beetle's baleful rattles whenever they went too fast for its liking. Dean, on the other hand, acted as though any speed without three digits was a religious offence. As exhilarating as the ride had been, though, Thomas' muscles screamed to be freed from the cramped rear seat and, he noted with a slight curl of his lip, Harry's leg was sweaty where it pressed against his.

His hunger had steadily danced behind his eyes as time carried on. It felt as though someone had screwed a faucet into his back and was letting all of his energy pour into the car seat, leaving his skin feeling thin and stretched. A manic giggle almost escaped his lips, _"Thin…like butter spread over too much bread…" _Yeah, that was pretty much exactly how he felt. It was to be expected though. His salon wasn't due to open for another several hours and Thomas found himself thinking yet again that it wouldn't be terribly wrong for him to take just a little from Bella. The whole fiasco was her fault, after all.

He gritted his teeth against the thought, but the hunger was growing into a steady pressure inside his head. Thomas gingerly pressed fingers against his temple, trying to impose some kind of calm upon himself, but the feeling only scattered into his shoulders and spine. Suddenly his eyes snapped open.

That wasn't hunger he was feeling.

Thomas opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it was Harry's voice that sounded out.

"Stop!" the wizard barked, hands gripping the seats in front of him.

Dean responded with a soldier's reflexes, foot hitting the break before his mind had fully processed Dresden's command. As everyone was thrown forward, the full brunt of whatever power they'd driven into washed over Thomas. He found himself gasping involuntarily and saw an answering tightening around his brother's eyes. To his surprise, Sam groaned and grabbed his forehead, obviously feeling it too. The rush of magic was over in seconds, seemingly harmless aside from its abrupt presence. Thomas had a moment of anxious confusion before its purpose made itself known.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed as his car coughed once, then died entirely. Thomas found himself silently grateful that the late night street was mostly deserted as the eldest Winchester desperately coaxed his Impala to a stop near the sidewalk.

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded, watching as Dean cursed and tried in vain to restart the car.

"Hex," Harry was pulling his staff and blasting rod out of the floorboard, no small feat in their cramped quarters. "Someone laid out a magical land mine for us that would stop the car."

Dean gave up on the car with a punch to the steering wheel before he went for his gun. "And why would they do that?"

He'd barely gotten the sentence out before a hole appeared in the roof of his car, followed by a whizzing noise and the headrest of Sam's seat exploding into tiny bits of foam. The owner of said seat blinked, grateful that he'd been reaching for something by his feet.

"I'm going to go with that." Dresden said simply. "Out. Now." The wizard's order was immediately followed by the rear passenger door opening and an artful scoot that had his hip pushing into Bella's and the thief being dumped unceremoniously onto the pavement. Everyone else wasn't far behind, but two more shots had been fired and one bullet clipped Dean in the shoulder. A cursory check from Sam proved that he was in no danger, and the five of them huddled against the car as Chicago's late night traffic drifted idly by.

"Where's the sniper, Thomas?" Harry asked.

He'd known the answer to that after the first shot. "Red brick building directly across from us," he answered aloud. Said building was three stories tall and nestled snugly in the shadows of the two taller buildings on either side of it. Thomas closed his eyes and inhaled, quickly sifting through the city smells of traffic, trash, and urine. Buried beneath them was a distinctive twinge that he'd come to know all too well. "It's on the roof," he took one more sniff to be sure before he met Harry's eyes. "Ghoul."

Dresden growled and glared at the sky, "Fantastic." He shot Sam a questioning look, to which the younger Winchester nodded gravely. This time, at least, Sam and Dean understood what they were up against.

It was Thomas' turn for a pointed look from the wizard. The concern in Harry's eyes was plain to see for those who knew where to look. Worry was appropriate at that point, however, given that everyone present was either exhausted or, in Bella's case, practically useless. Considering the range required of them, the Winchester's guns were more of a danger to those inside the building then anything else, not to mention they'd probably stick once Harry started casting anyway. Without a clear view there wasn't much Harry could do either, and peaking around the car to get his bearings was out of the question. All that was left was…

"I can get around behind him, I think," Thomas said, quietly. His little brother looked disbelieving. They both knew that he wasn't up to a one on one with a ghoul. "All I have to do is get up there and I can knock him down here where the rest of you can take care of him." As he spoke, he silently drew his kukri.

"Alright, but take this," Harry began shrugging out of his trench coat. As he passed the heavy bit of leather off to Thomas, he sighed, "It never fails, somehow you always end up in my clothes."

Thomas' assuredly witty retort was cut off by Sam peaking around the wizard and pointing at the twin kukri with pursed lips. "Where were you hiding those?"

The vampire gifted him with a smile that he knew was dazzling even without glamour. "You really wanna know?"

Sam blanched, "Um…pass."

"Dean, you ok over there?" Harry asked.

Dean's voice came from the darkness, "Don't insult me."

The wizard didn't say anything, but he grinned before closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath through his nose. Thomas tensed, shifting forward onto the balls of his feet. Within seconds, small bits of dirt and debris began to gently skitter across the pavement as Harry gathered what was probably some of the last of his power. Suddenly, Harry's eyes snapped open as he held his staff over the trunk of the car and snarled, "_Forzare_!"

Thomas' eyes stung as a gigantic burst of wind rose up and rushed toward the sniper's roof. The force behind the blast wasn't really that great, but Dresden had spread it over an area around twenty feet wide. With no idea of the ghoul's exact location, the massive gust had a much better chance of at least hitting it. In the meantime, it also managed to pick up almost every dirt clod and small bit of trash on their half of the sidewalk, courteously awarding Thomas with a handy cover.

He absorbed all of this in an instant. Harry's spell had barely been uttered before his legs had uncoiled and sent him gliding across the street, little more then a brief streak of black in one's peripheral vision. Dresden always seemed to be in his element when the shit hit the fan. The man could face down gods with little more then a revolver and a stick and walk away victorious. He was a hero, a man made for battle. But Thomas?

Thomas was made for the hunt.

It had been years since he'd had to consciously tap into his reserves. The power flowed through him naturally now, no more noticeable then a fleeting thought. Despite the fact that the snug alley was barely four feet across, he managed not to clip his shoulders on either side as he dodged trashcans and a lump that turned out to be a disgruntled homeless man. Somewhere above and to his right, shots continued to ring out intermittently, though they seemed less frequent now. Either the sniper was running low on ammunition, or it wanted the others to believe that as a means to lure them away from their cover. He hoped for the first, but in the end simply prayed that the continued shots would cover the sound of his approach.

The alley failed to yield a fire escape, but the rear of the building proved more forthcoming. As expected, the ladder had been pulled up and the lowest rung taunted from him eight feet above the ground. Thomas merely smiled and sheathed one of his kukri without breaking stride as he leaped for the ladder, catching one of the middle rungs with his free hand. Arm muscles bunched and strained as he swung himself over the railing, but he landed in virtual silence. For a brief moment he paused, poised, as he waited for any sign that his quarry had sensed him. A few seconds later, however, another shot rang out and he was off again, footsteps barely disturbing the dust on rusted stairs.

A lot of buildings didn't bother with making fire escapes that reached all the way to the roof. This one, thankfully, seemed to be obliging to Thomas' cause. However, the roof itself was annoyingly free of any decent cover; aside from a few ancient AC units that of course had to be placed on the opposite side from where he peaked. Fortunately, he was at least given a clear view of the ghoul.

She still wore her human mask, and though the fact that she was laying on her stomach made it hard to gauge her height, Thomas was going to go with short. Thick black hair was pulled back in a high pony tail and tanned fingers gripped her rifle with relaxed ease as she fired off another shot to where his brother and allies huddled below. She was somewhere around a hundred feet away, her feet pointing almost straight to where Thomas crouched.

It was then that reality began to weigh on him a bit. Yes, what he'd told Harry was mostly true: getting the ghoul off the roof wouldn't be too much of a problem. On the other hand, if she simply fell, Harry and the others would have five lanes of traffic to contend with, giving her ample time to crawl away. No, he'd have to find a way to get some distance on her, and that didn't leave him with many options. Another shot fired.

Oh yeah, and time. He didn't have a lot of that either.

With an inward sigh, Thomas carefully eased himself over the ledge and onto the roof proper. Shifting his knife to his right hand, he slid a bit to the left, taking care not to disturb any gravel as he stopped just outside of her field of vision. Immediately to the ghoul's right was one of the AC units. It had to have been put together by a drunken plumber, as it was cursed with a plethora of pipes and tubes sticking out at awkward angles. Thomas examined this as he took a deep breath, actually concentrating on his reserves.

They didn't come to him in a sudden rush of extreme energy. Instead, his eyes stung a bit. To an outside observer they would have bled slowly white. Dead. Also, his muscles felt tense and edgy, as if her were being forced to sit still after drinking a case of Red Bull. As the power filled him, his hand flashed outward, sending the kukri to bury deep into one of the AC unit's pipes. It landed with a deep gong that resonated through the entire machine as it sunk in to the hilt. Steam erupted around what remained exposed, hissing out in all directions.

To her credit, the ghoul reacted with incredible speed. Almost quicker than he could follow, she was on her knees with a small hand gun pointed in the direction of the racket. It would have been much more helpful to Thomas if she'd stood instead of knelt, but he would work with what was given.

Before his knife had even reached the AC, Thomas had set off at a dead run. There was nothing silent in his steps now as he sacrificed stealth in the name of speed and power. The ghoul swung her gun in his direction as she heard him approach, but he was already far too close. A slight adjustment to the left had him moving past her pointed gun as he crashed into her. His arms closed tightly around her small body and he continued running. A few more steps found him at the roof's edge and he pushed off, his considerable momentum sending both himself and his captive soaring above early morning traffic.

The ghoul had been quick to catch onto his plan, however. She'd kicked off herself, sending them into a spin that would have ended up with Thomas landing pinned beneath her. The realization of her maneuver hit Thomas with sickening clarity and he fisted his hands in her shirt, using all of his strength to work with the momentum of their spin and bring himself on top again. With one last lurch, he managed to push off of her just a bit and pull his knees up to rest on her stomach.

In future versions of this story, Thomas would've liked to say that in that moment, their eyes had met. He would've liked to say that there, suspended three stories over unforgiving pavement, he and his opponent had shared some sort of connection as they resigned themselves to their fate.

The reality, however, was that all he could see was the street surging up to pummel him. He couldn't' even tell how far the jump had taken them. All he could register was the difference in their fall as it became less about sideways and more about horrible, unrelenting _down_. Thomas made himself as small as he could behind the ghoul's diminutive frame and may or may not have made an unmanly sound.

In the end, he didn't feel the impact. Thomas was pretty sure that was a bad sign, but all he saw was street, street, street, and then black. He remembered telling his body to roll in a direction that was hopefully away from the ghoul, but whether or not it obeyed was up for debate.

Somewhere, tires screeched and a horn honked, but he really didn't care.

--

Apparently there was a distinct difference between _knowing_ that a random ghoul was about to go flying off a rooftop and _seeing_ said random ghoul go flying off a rooftop. Dresden's feral grin was quickly wiped from his face, however, as the flailing figure quickly separated into two silhouettes.

_No_, Harry thought,_ no no no no you _idiot_ what were you thinking?!_

Thomas' foolhardy jump was astounding. He and the ghoul cleared a sidewalk and four lanes of traffic, but his brother could only watch in horror as they crashed into the final lane. The ghoul landed flat on her back, limbs splayed in a crude parody of a spider as Thomas sluggishly rolled toward the sidewalk.

Instantly, Harry, Sam, and Dean were on their feet, but the sound of someone slamming their breaks had them all freezing in their tracks. A SUV was heading straight for the ghoul's prone form and a semi to its left prevented it from swerving. It didn't stop soon enough, though, and the ghoul raised its head just in time to become acquainted with the vehicle's bumper. Something caught, and it ended up being drug another ten feet or so before the squealing tires finally silenced.

Suppressing the urge to point and laugh, Harry spared a glance at Thomas. His brother was lying half on his back in the gutter, eyes unfocused and half lidded as he warred with consciousness. Every instinct that Dresden had screamed and shook their fists, demanding that he go to him. That luxury would have to wait, unfortunately.

Staff at the ready, Harry stalked to the nearest side of the SUV while Dean circled around the other side and Sam dove for the Impala's trunk. From his position, he could see the driver--a middle aged man with dark hair wearing a suit--scramble out of his seat, hands shaking with panic.

"Oh my God," the man stammered, "T-They jumped. I didn't have any time to stop! I-I killed them, didn't I? Are they-"

His jumbled words came to an abrupt halt as Dean raised his gun level with the man's eyes. He gave him half a second to process the situation before saying one word: "Run."

The man didn't' have to be told twice.

A slight scraping noise could be heard from under the SUV and Harry watched with growing fury as first one hand covered in black blood appeared, then another. The ghoul pulled herself free with aching slowness, driven more by instinct more then anything else at that point. As it continued to struggle, Dresden rethought the staff and reached into his coat, pulling out his shiny new revolver. He took careful aim, rage turning cold as the ghoul's head came into view. One half of it was little more then raw meat, and what was left was no longer human looking.

Harry didn't' bother with any snazy comments, he let loose one round, then another and another until his gun clicked empty and the top of the ghoul's head was little more then pulp. He glared at the revolver, annoyed at its lack of bullets.

Despite its monumental injuries, despite the smell of decay that wafted from under the vehicle, Dresden still didn't approach their ghoul. The constitution of a ghoul was an amazing thing. The bastards could come back from just about anything barring--

Sam appeared in Harry's view wielding an impressive machete longer than his forearm. With one quick swipe, he cleanly separated the ghoul's head from its body, gingerly kicking it a few feet away.

Yeah, barring that.

Foe dispatched, Harry made a bee line for Thomas, who coughed painfully and rolled his head toward the sound. Some of his worst fears were realized in the pallor of his brother's skin and the glazed look in his eyes. It had been way, way too long since he'd fed last. Had it been too long? The last time Dresden had seem him this bad, it had ended badly for everyone involved.

And this time it was Harry's fault.

"Thomas, you still with me?" he asked as he knelt and began to asses the vampire's injuries.

Thomas raised both eyebrows lazily, eyes unfocused, "Maybe…?"

"You're getting this stuff confused, man," Harry's voice was a bit more steady now. It was looking like things weren't quite as bad as he feared. "I'm supposed to be the hero that gallantly takes one for the team."

And it was true. Harry was the one who inevitably ended up stuck in bed. It was Thomas' job to be there when he woke up; mocking him, nursing him, cooking horribly, stealing his clothes, eating all his food…The whole situation made his stomach turn in a way that had nothing to do with bad sushi.

Thomas grinned blearily, "You're ugly enough. Had to give your face a rest." He grabbed the edge of Harry's coat and wiggled it, "Pulled it in front of me at the last second. It took most of the impact."

"Remind me to mess up that face of yours again once it's healed."

"How is he even still alive?" Sam demanded from somewhere over Harry's shoulder. The Winchesters and Bella had made their way over.

" 'Cause I'm awesome," Thomas answered drunkenly.

"Either way, we need to get out of here," Dean pointed out, "and I hope your apartment is close, Harry. We're a bit too conspicuous for the bus."

Dresden's mind was already racing down that train of though, "I have a friend or two we can call."

"Alright, what's their number?" Dean asked, pulling out his cell phone. He cursed when it wouldn't turn on.

"Remember the hex?"

The eldest Winchester cast his eyes toward the sky, "You know, I'm really starting to hate wizards."

"You and me both, buddy," Harry grinned. "Now, less whining, more payphone. Let's move."

--

No cheerful polka graced the walls of Butters' examination room. It was nearing time for the shift change, and sadly his coworkers were cursed with a coffee addiction and bad taste in music. They were almost never on time, but it paid to be cautious. He was ever walking the fine line between cheerful rebellion and the unemployment office.

That particular morning found him glaring down at his last cadaver of the day. Really, the powers that be were just getting insulting with the things they sent his way. One look and he knew the cause of death was a heart attack; but pushy families meant pointless work for unappreciated MEs. With a sigh, he raised his scalpel, ready to make a quick job of it and head home, when his hip started vibrating violently.

He yelped, dropping the scalpel with a clatter as he danced in a circle, trying to liberate his cell phone from his scrubs. Luckily, he managed to answer just before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?" he asked politely, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. "Yes, this is he…yes." All color left his cheeks and his eyes widened, "I-I see…yes. Thank you for telling me."

Butters set his phone down gently, not noticing that it was balanced precariously on the cadaver's forehead. No, he was too busy wondering if he could go ahead and claim some of his vacation time. He still had yet to see Niagara Falls, for one. A man should never get to his age without seeing Niagara Falls. From the Canadian side.

His phone began to ring again, innocently vibrating down the dead man's brow toward his nose. Butters stared at it with the kind of precognitive dread usually saved for backwoods diners and unexpected visits from the in-laws. Curiosity won out, though, and he once again found himself answering just before the voicemail, his greeting only slightly less polite then before.

Static was the only sound from the other end at first, before a familiar wizard voice could be heard, "Hey, Butters."

Butters whimpered. Great, the one person he _didn't _want to call.

"H-Hiya, Harry," he said with a nervous laugh. "What has you up this early in the morning?"

"Some friends and I ran into a wee bit of trouble on the way home and our cars were the ones that took the beating. See?" There was some shuffling on the other end and more static. It ended up focusing on an unfamiliar man's voice that was ranting about "crazed brown whores" and "Swiss cheese cars." Then there was more shuffling and the phone came back to Harry. "He hasn't had a very good day. Anyway, I hate to ask this of you, but is there any way we could get a ride from you? We're trying to avoid public transport."

Butters smiled despite himself, "Sure thing, Harry."

"Thanks, man, I owe you one."

"Pfft. You know better than that." As Harry relayed his location and such, Butters' mind was racing. No, there was no way in Hell he was going anywhere near the wizard in the next couple of weeks or so. Still, there was also no way he'd leave him stranded on the edge of Chicago. That left him with one more phone call to make as soon as he hung up with Dresden.

--

Sam was beyond tired. It turned out that sharing cramped back alleys with wizards, enraged brothers, cowed thieves, and injured…somethings was a drain on one's patience. Who'd have guessed? Normally, he would have been out in the middle of things poking people, maybe getting answers for the million and one questions buzzing around in his head. Instead, he found a moderately clean crate to rest against and closed his eyes, thinking invisible thoughts.

The better part of an hour had passed before a nondescript minivan pulled up, blocking off what little light made it into the alley. Sam cracked one eye open and stared at it warily, but Harry seemed to recognize the vehicle. He didn't look the least bit happy, but he wasn't going for any weapons.

"You have got to be kidding me," Dresden grumbled, stalking toward the van. The others scrambled to keep up with him. Thomas, who'd ended up suffering little more then a dislocated shoulder and some impressive bruising, somehow managed to make hobbling look sexy as he leaned on a wall for support. As they drew near, Sam could see that the driver was…not at all what he expected.

The girl in the driver's seat was easily a couple of years younger than himself, and she faced down Dresden's ire with unaffected cheer, dramatically bleached hair falling about her face in artful disarray. She had enough piercings to make an airport hell, and Sam caught glimpses of what might've been a serpent tattoo through a gap in her shirt's collar.

"Butters," said Harry, leaning one hand on the roof of the van, "you're looking decidedly underage and…female."

The girl's grin widened, "Heya, Harry. Butters gave me a call. Seems that your infinite well of wizardly knowledge lost sight of the fact that he can't even fit _you_ into that windup toy he calls a truck, let alone guests."

Dresden glared, "Uh-huh, and I'm going to assume that your mother gleefully passed off the keys to her van to you in good faith."

"Not directly, no."

A solid thunk resounded as Dresden banged his head against her window, "Charity's going to kill me." The girl patted him on the head, but there was no sympathy in her face.

"Ah well," the wizard straightened and adjusted the coat he'd ganked back from Thomas. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce my esteemed and nosey apprentice Molly. Molly, this is everyone. Try not to track any mud in the van, I suspect Molly's mom was a Valkyrie in a past life."

Dean caught sight of Molly over Sam's shoulder as everyone began to file in. "Hey," he said, a well known grin tugging at his lips, "this trip just got a little more interesting."

Sam awarded him with a deadpan look, "You're not serious."

His brother looked honestly confused, "What?"

"Never mind," he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If you want to try and get something going with the all-powerful wizard's beloved apprentice, far be it from me to stop you."

Dean beamed and clapped him on the back, "Thanks, bro."

With a sigh, Sam made to climb into the back seat beside Bella, but a feeling of being watched had him glancing up. He caught Molly looking at him curiously. When she noticed his returned gaze she smiled and nodded, turning to answer something Harry had asked from the passenger seat.

--

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting of Dresden's home. An oversized condo, maybe, or an old, gothic apartment complete with gargoyles. Hell, he'd halfway been hoping for the Fortress of Solitude. No, reality revealed itself in the form of a nondescript boarding house nestled forlornly in an unremarkable part of town. Apparently Dresden didn't even warrant a first floor apartment. As he watched the wizard curse and struggle with an ill-fitting steel door, he pondered offering to help but decided against it. The dire warnings that Harry had given them a few minutes prior concerning the wards he had in place were still fresh on his mind.

At last the door gave and Harry let out a half-hearted cheer, resting for a moment against the doorway. From his vantage point at the top of the stairs leading down, Dean couldn't see into the apartment. He didn't, however, miss the way Dresden suddenly tensed and shot to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the wizard demanded, an odd tone in his voice.

Dean had already drawn his gun yet again at Harry's strange reaction, and he shifted his position slightly to see into the apartment's tiny living room. What he saw proved less then threatening.

Calmly sitting on a well worn couch was a woman. Even while sitting, it was obvious she was tiny, easily the smallest person present. Blond hair hung unbrushed and lanky around her face. Her lips were pale, blending seamlessly with deathly skin that glistened with a sickly sheen. Slowly, a crooked smile ghosted her features.

"Hello, Harry."

--

**Extended Author's Note:***pantpantpant* Dear lord…fourteen pages. That's literally twice my normal chapter length. Originally I was tempted to break this up into two chapters, but I figured that after such a long absence a super chapter would be a decent apology.

Lessee…reasons for extended absence? Computer death, followed by a move to another city followed by the creativity sucking eeeeeevils that are new mmo releases. First there was Age of Conan, then Warhammer Online lightly sprinkled with the Wrath of the Lich King release and seasoned with a god-awful case of writer's block far more impenetrable then Arcatraz. In the end, jadeanime broke my writer's block by holding the next book in a trilogy I'm reading hostage until I presented her with a completed chappy. (Btw, if you haven't read "Mistborn" by Brandon Sanderson GO DO IT. Seriously…it's genre-bending levels of awesomeness.)

**Notes on the Story Proper:**kk, quick clarification on a couple of things that made it into this chapter.

1) Sam and Dean's previous knowledge of ghouls: I know there was never anything like this that made it into their show, but I was starting to feel a bit sorry for the brothers. They really are out of their depth in Harry's world, and I'm sure it's only going to get worse, so I figured I'd give them the benefit of the doubt concerning ghouls. I get the impression that they're moderately common, so I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility that they might have run into one at some point in their lengthy careers.

2) Why Bella Didn't Have a Line: Uhhh…honestly I didn't notice until after I'd finished the chapter and proofread it. There wasn't much for her to do in this chapter, but I didn't forget about her, she'll speak up again later (not that I'm excited about the prospect -_-).

3) Where the Fook is Bob?!: He's still there. Again, there really wasn't much room to squeeze him into this chapter what with the fighting and the running and the shooting, but next chapter shall feature much Bobness, along with Mouse and Mister and all the lovely aspects of Chicago that have been previously silent.

Once again, thank you guys so much for being patient with all of my many issues. Thank you for the all the sympathy for my poor poor dead compy, and thank you to the people who recently reviewed or added me to their alert list despite my obvious lack of updating. All of you are beyond awesome.

(Also: I feel like a total ff nub…I _just now_ noticed that you can individually reply to reviews. Now that I know this, I'll make it a point to reply to any of the questions you guys ask me. I wasn't ignoring you, I swear!)


	7. Chapter 7

*checks pulse* Sweet Jebbus, I _am_ alive! Whodathunkit? I was so very nervous about this chapter, I think I rewrote the entire thing three times. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I figured three months and counting was waaaaaay too long without a post. I shall not bore you all any further, though in keeping with my own tradition, there's probably going to be a giant author's note at the end. Enjoy!

(As a side note though, thank you all so very very much for your awesome reviews! The previous chapter had almost double the number of any chapter before it, and that almost floored me when I noticed. Also, to Kent Rigel, your request has been granted. :D )

* * *

The woman's blue eyes took in everyone assembled and her smile solidified, "You made some friends."

Harry's expression held no hostility--just a good bit of annoyance and worry--which lead Dean to feel a bit silly keeping his gun out. As he put it away, he couldn't help remembering something Dresden had said to Bella during their first meeting; something about a friend that had been hurt during her escape. He also noted that said thief was subtly inching her way behind Sam.

The wizard glared, "Yeah, a couple. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be in the hospital. On pain killers. Lots of them."

A prescription bottle appeared in the woman's hand and she gave it a jiggle, smile turning to a grin. "Got plenty."

"And you drove?"

"Taxis are wonderful things."

The exchange ended with the two of them glaring at each other and everyone else trapped in an awkward silence. Thomas broke it slightly by shouldering past Harry and easing himself painfully into the room's only armchair. "She's here, Harry, get over it," he said. "You and I both know that Murph wouldn't endanger you by showing up if she were _that_ bad off."

Dresden grumbled and ran a hand across his mouth. After a moment, he waved everyone inside with an agitated flick of his hand. He himself took up the remaining couch beside the blond, settling down carefully so as not to jar her. The others were left to fend for themselves as far as seating went.

As Bella entered, her eyes caught the other woman's and she nodded respectfully, "Sergeant Murphy," she mumbled in greeting.

The woman--Murphy apparently--narrowed her eyes. "Percocet is a beautiful drug, Miss Lugosi. It's the only thing giving you the privilege of standing right now." Her gaze slid to Dresden and grew even more icy, "Speaking of which, _why_ is she still here?"

If Dean didn't know any better, he'd have said the wizard looked sheepish. "She _is_ still being chased, Murph," he said. This did not seem to impress the diminutive female. "If it makes you feel any better, these two fine gentlemen have taken over her case; I'm just pointing them in the right direction."

Murphy stared at him, deadpanned, clearly not buying it. "So you're helping them…"

"Yes…" Harry cautioned.

"And they're helping her."

"Uh huh."

"Which means that you're still protecting her."

The wizard's forehead wrinkled, "Now, that's just splitting hairs."

Murphy sighed and rubbed her temples, "You're a pig, Dresden."

Thomas snickered.

In the meantime, Bella had settled herself primly near the fireplace and Dean had found himself leaning against a formidable bookshelf. He'd been on the verge of saying something to her, when he found Murphy looking at him expectantly. It dawned on him then that he and Sam had yet to be introduced.

As he stepped forward, his first inclination was, as always, to offer up an alias. Dealing with the supernatural had more then once landed both he and Sam--mainly himself--in situations that looked a wee bit suspicious to members of law enforcement. On a federal level. Unfortunately, a stroke of genius upon meeting Dresden had him using their real names, so he figured the safest route at the moment would be to try and keep things on a first name basis.

"Hi, I'm Dean," he said simply, leaning down to shake her hand. "The guy behind me is Sam."

Murphy nodded politely, "And you two would be the 'fine gentlemen' taking over Miss Lugosi's-"

"Talbot," Dean interjected. A mischievous impulse nudged him into the correction, and who was he to deny it after all the trouble the bitch had caused? "Her last name is actually Talbot."

"I see," said Murphy with a cocked eyebrow.

As he returned to his original position, Dean couldn't stop himself from sending a subtle smirk in the thief's direction. She looked anything but annoyed with his candor, however. Instead she simply smiled pleasantly.

"Now, Mr. Winchester, it isn't polite to go around revealing a lady's secrets," she chided gently.

The eldest Winchester flinched inwardly. Oh well, he'd walked right into that one. That didn't stop him from fixing Bella with his best baleful glare, though. Still unruffled, she continued to smile. After a moment, she pointedly looked past his shoulder and lifted her eyebrows as if there was something going on behind him.

Shyeah right. Like he'd fall for that.

Half a second later, Sam yelped in surprise. Dean spun to find his little brother scrambling to his feet. Apparently Sam had been in the process of settling into a sitting position with his back against the wall. Said wall was moving now, though, the dim candlelight of Harry's apartment alighting on what looked like gray fur.

"Dresden, your wall's moving," Dean said calmly.

Thomas craned his head to see the cause of the commotion and grinned, "Heh, I was wondering where he went."

"It's just a dog," Sam laughed at his own jumpiness. The "dog" in question continued to struggle to its feet revealing a massive head, floppy ears, and a nose that twitched wildly while it took in all the new scents.

"Yeah…right, just a poor, defenseless puppy," Dean mumbled disbelievingly. _Face-eating bear is more like it_, he thought. The monstrosity easily stood taller then Sam as he sat. Given that Sam was well over six feet tall, he had a lot of torso. Even an Irish wolfhound should have had to strain to be taller than him.

"That," said Harry with a note of fondness and pride in his voice, "is Mouse. And yes, he's just a dog. I think."

Sam smiled and held out his hand to be sniffed, "I've never seen one this big."

Dean grinned at Molly and tossed his head toward his brother, "Chicks always go for the dogs."

Mouse stretched his neck forward to tentatively sniff at Sam's hand. He seemed to study it for a moment, then sneezed violently--covering his hand in dog slobber and other gooey things--before lumbering over and laying his head in Harry's lap. Dean laughed, Sam looked horrified, and Dresden seemed oddly troubled by his dog's actions. He said nothing, however, instead scratching Mouse behind the ears before turning back to Murphy. Everyone else followed his example, and so they didn't notice Sam covertly wipe the slobber on Dean's jacket, nor did they hear Dean's indignant, "Dude!"

Harry sighed, "Ok, so, moving on: Why did you leave the hospital? Or more importantly…why did you come here?"

Murphy cocked her head to the side, "Do you want the long version or the short one?"

"Right now? I'll go with the short one."

"Thomas."

The wizard shot a glace at the man in question, who was already holding his hands up in the universal "don't look at me" gesture.

"Alright, fine. What's the long version?" Dresden grumbled in defeat.

Murphy smirked, "Thomas, at least, had the presence of mind to keep someone aware of your location. Every time you'd stop to scry while chasing Bella, he'd call Butters and let him know where you were. Once I finally got out of surgery and was lucid, Butters kept me updated too."

"That was mighty chivalrous of both of them," Harry looked to the other man, "How'd you manage that?"

Thomas shrugged, "Payphones mostly. I bummed a cell here and there."

"And you managed to retain the numbers of any cell owners that were female and under twenty-five, I assume?"

Thomas grinned.

"Anyway," Murphy cut in, looking slightly amused despite her brisk tone, "I was worried so I kept an ear out for anything going on along the route you were taking."

"You did that from the hospital?"

"By proxy, I had some friends help me out," she obviously didn't want to use any names in front of Sam and Dean. "Now, I have to ask, Harry: Where did you catch up with Bella?"

Dresden seemed to think about it for a moment. "Weatherford? Yeah, Weatherford, Nebraska."

Murphy nodded, "And how long did it take you to get back?"

"A little over sixteen hours. Why the third degree, Karin?"

"So assuming you stayed on the interstate, and that whomever was driving held no respect for traffic laws," she continued on, ignoring the question; Dean found the ceiling very interesting after her comment, "that would mean that there was a convenience store clerk murdered within two hours of you passing him."

The room fell dead silent.

"It was a Shell station, wasn't it?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean spoke up as well, "How did he die?"

Murphy was about to answer, but was interrupted by Dresden, who shifted his position slightly and winced. Shifting again, he reached into his coat and pulled out the skull he'd taken from Bella. Dusting it off slightly, he set it on the coffee table in front of him with a muted clunk.

Dean couldn't stop the glare that wrinkled his brow. There was something unnatural about that thing, and whatever that something was, it had possibly caused the death of an innocent man; not to mention that it had gotten him mixed up with Bella gain. He hated it on principle.

Either not noticing or ignoring Dean's consternation, Harry nodded apologetically at Murphy and motioned for her to continue.

"The fact that someone died near you in that timeframe wasn't much in and of itself. The death hasn't even officially been classified as a murder," she pressed on, "but there were some things that caught my attention. According to the reports I found, his heart was literally crushed from the inside. There were no marks otherwise, no signs of struggle, but it still looked as if his heart had been clenched in someone's fist."

Harry frowned, "Was there anything else unusual?"

"Yes, one thing: There were traces of sulfur found along the window sill."

Dean's blood ran to ice.

Attention focused on Harry, Murphy missed his reaction. "I might've thought that even I was being paranoid, but there was another set of murders in Chicago a couple of hours after your apartment was attacked. An entire family was wiped out except for the youngest daughter and she's been missing since."

"Were their hearts crushed like the clerk?" Thomas asked.

She shook her head, "All of the deaths were different, but feasible; snapped neck, stabbings, that sort of thing. SI might not have even gotten the case except for some oddities around the house. One was that the father had obviously been killed days before the rest of the family and left on the couch. There were no signs of struggle or containment, yet no one tried to run. Another was--"

"Sulfur on the windows," Sam finished under his breath.

Murphy turned and fixed the younger Winchester with a stare that could've melted through steel. If it hadn't already been made painfully obvious by the way she described the crime scenes (or the fact that she already knew so much so quickly), that look would've been all it took for Dean to peg her as a cop. "You know something about this?"

"Um, not about these specific murders, no, but everything you've described is a classic demon attack," Sam had shoved his hands in his pockets, a sure sign that he was nervous having so many eyes on him.

"Demon attack, huh?" Dresden asked, slouching into the couch a bit. He cocked a rueful eyebrow, "Care to be a bit more specific?"

Dean blinked, "How do you get more specific then demons?"

"Well, by just saying 'demon' you've pretty much described a fourth of the Nevernever. There are many, many different kinds out there." In answer to the brothers' continued blank stares, he continued on, "What're some of the characteristics the kind you're talking about have?"

"They come from hell?" asked Dean, raising his own eyebrow. "And what's a Nevernever? Wait, never mind, I sense a speech. I'm sure Sam'll ask later."

Sam glared at his brother's rudeness, but the others just seemed to find it entertaining. "Well, for starters, they do come from Hell, but they aren't fallen angels like you'd find in the Bible. They're actually human souls; people that've been corrupted by centuries spent in Hell and somehow found a way back to Earth," he paused, looking around the room. Bella looked bored, but everyone else seemed not only interested…they believed him. It was nice.

"Ok, go on," Harry prompted.

Sam shuffled his feet a bit, "They have to inhabit a physical body to stay here, but it's pretty easy for them to posses just about anyone. Killing the host body is pointless, they can keep it moving no matter what you do to it. The only way to get rid of them is an exorcism, but holy water still hurts like a bitch."

"How good are they at impersonating the people they posses?" Molly asked.

"Almost perfect. We haven't figured out if they can read a host's mind or if they're just that good from living so long. I've seen some of the younger ones make a few minor mistakes. Also," Sam added this with a pointed look toward Murphy, "they tend to leave traces of sulfur around when they take over a person."

"Makes sense," Murphy conceded, then looked to Dresden for his opinion.

He shrugged, "I've never heard of anything like that. What do you think, Bob?" Much to Dean's surprise, he turned to the skull. "Bob?"

"Is he talking to the skull?" Dean whispered, leaning near Sam.

His brother nodded, "Yeah, I think he is."

The skull, apparently, wasn't accepting any callers, for it remained still and silent. Harry glared and kicked the coffee table. "Bob!"

After a moment, two teeny orbs of orange light appeared in the skull's eye sockets. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say they looked as if they were peeking out from almost closed eyes.

Then, God help him, it spoke.

"…I'm not talking to you." The lights winked out.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The lights came back, "It means I'm not talking to you," and winked out again.

"What the- You can't possibly be mad at me."

Again, the orbs returned, this time a little brighter. "I'd say that 'mad' is an understatement, but for the sake of argument, sure, we'll go with that."

"I gave you permission to use Mister if you were going to be ganked again. There was no excuse for you being taken this time, you can't lay it on me."

"No excuse?" Bob stuttered. "Harry, I know your libido has taken to eating tapioca and playing Bingo, but you have you _looked_ at that woman?" The orange lights panned dramatically in Bella's direction. "There was no escape."

It was almost a physical effort for Dean to resist poking Bob. "A talking skull…how'd you manage that one, Dresden?"

"The skull talks," said Bob, "because unlike most of the other skulls in this room, it has something useful inside it. I am, of course, excluding you, Lieutenant Murphy. How are you doing, by the way?"

"It's sergeant now," she corrected quietly.

The orbs brightened suddenly, almost like he had widened his eyes, "Really?" He focused on the wizard. "What did you do, Harry?"

"What? Bad things happen and they have to be my fault?"

Pointed silence.

Harry sighed, "Body snatching demons, Bob. Focus."

Dean didn't miss that Molly looked a bit green at the mention of Murphy's demotion.

"Right. Demons that posses people. I don't even want to begin to think about how long that list is, but throw in the sulfur and the formerly human thing and that narrows it down a lot."

"How much?"

"Down to one, actually. _Umbra evertos_."

Harry frowned. "Shadow demon?"

"Translated loosely, yeah. It's supposed to refer to the fact that they walk in the shadow of their human life. All very dramatic. What it boils down to is that they're annoying. The sulfur they leave behind is what happens to the bulk of their power when they cross a threshold. They're subject to the same rules as anything from the Nevernever, but they still bring a lot of mojo with them when they cross a line."

"The sulfur…is it like the faeries and ectoplasm?" asked Molly.

"Exactly."

"Gold star, Grasshopper," Dresden grinned.

Murphy's brow furrowed, "But there was sulfur at the convenience store. That shouldn't have had any kind of threshold, right?"

"Creatures that leak power a lot tend to be a little tricky with their rules," Bob explained. "If they have difficulty holding themselves together without a host (and in this case, our guys do) then any kind of barrier can knock a little of them off. Sure, thresholds are by far the strongest, but even a one foot tall brick wall has its uses."

"I see."

"I don't," Dean waved his hand a little. When everyone turned to look at him he said, "Sorry, but I'm lost. I'm not following the connection between ectoplasm and sulfur. Mind breaking it down for the normal guys over here?" He appeared to think for a moment before he turned to Sam with a frown. "I can't believe I just called us the normal ones."

Luckily, Harry obliged him. "The Nevernever is pretty much an alternate plane of existence," he said. "A lot of times, when beings from it cross over to our plane, their body is made up of ectoplasm, which is basically material from the Nevernever. If you managed to dismember them, kill them, etc, the part that was separated reverts to pure ectoplasm, which eventually evaporates."

"So it's the same ectoplasm that ghosts leave behind?" asked Sam.

"Yup."

"And we're guessing that sulfur is a demons version of ectoplasm?" Dean tried to clarify.

"We're not 'guessing', Einstein, it's a fact," Bob shot from his place on the coffee table. "Trust me, I don't _guess_."

Dean crossed his arms as one eyebrow seemed to raise on its own, "Really? Never? You're trying to tell me that you're never wrong."

"I'm not _trying _to tell you. I've already done that. I'm just waiting for the concept to sink in."

Sam stepped forward and cut Dean off before he could retort, "Ok, I get what you guys are saying, but really, how does the clerk tie into anything?"

"And that, my friend, is the million dollar question," the wizard sighed.

Something occurred to Dean and he leaned against the bookshelf behind him, "He died within hours of seeing us, and you said that hex we were hit with was a trap, right Dresden?"

Bob perked up, "You were hit with a hex?"

"Yeah," said Harry, sitting forward as his brain began to work, "someone left a hex nice and wrapped up almost like a land mine waiting for us to drive over. It stopped the car and there was a sniper waiting for us."

"Oh well, that explains almost everything," Bob chirped happily.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, "It explains nothing, I'm still totally lost."

"Big surprise," Bob grumbled. Harry kneed the coffee table.

"Ok, well," the wizard stood and began pacing, no small feat in the cramped quarters, "we can assume for now that this demon came to town pretty close to when we ran. Then it shows up again on the way back. A few hours later, a wizard lays a trap for us," he'd been ticking off the events on his fingers and he looked down at them, pursing his lips. "Molly, could you grab me paper and a pen, please?"

"Sure thing," the girl began rifling around for said items.

Dean raised his hand in a lazy parody of a school kid, "How do we know the hex was done by a wizard?"

"See any electronics around here?" Harry beamed, gesturing toward his kitchen with its archaic ice box and stove. "Wizards muck with modern technology just by being around it. Well, that goes for magic in general, but that hex we ran across was pretty basic stuff. All he had to do was bind up a little of his will and leave it waiting for us. There's two things that make me wonder, though. Oh, thanks, Molly," he said as she passed the requested objects.

Dresden settled back down on the couch and began scribbling notes as he spoke. "One: he'd have to know we were coming and what route we were taking. He'd also probably have to have a good idea of our speed, a couple of hours later and the magic would have dispersed." At the questioning looks from the Winchesters, he added, "Sunrise unravels most magic. Some of the bigger spells can take up to three days."

"So he was warned," said Dean.

Sam raised his head, "The clerk?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Harry nodded. "I think we can safely say that one of us is being followed. That leads us to number two: He'd have to have a personal item of someone in the car, or something from the car itself. Otherwise it would've gone off on the first thing that crossed it."

"That leaves a lot of possibilities open," Murphy mused, "but logically I'd say it was the man that was after Bella."

* * *

Right. Bella. The busty damsel in distress that always ended up landing Harry in water far over his head. Dresden sighed and felt his fingers unconsciously rubbing his temples. Normally, at this point of the mystery he'd have been holed up in his lab, being berated by Bob in the privacy of his sanctuary and working his wizardly magic without interruption, but he needed these kids pointed in the right direction. For the time being, anyway. He was extremely thankful that Murph was following his lead and speaking freely (for her) in front of them, even if she hadn't been filled in on his motives yet. She was right though: everything concerning this warlock was centered around Bella, and he was beyond tired of beating around the bush.

"Bella," he said quietly, not looking up, "I'm not an idiot. No one in this room is. You're involved with this situation in ways you haven't told us. You need to come clean with us, and you need to do it now."

All eyes in the room fell on her with that statement, but to her credit Bella appeared unruffled. She faced him levelly, though she wisely refrained from eye contact. "I can't do that, I'm afraid."

"If you told us, he'd have to kill you?" Harry didn't bother straining the sarcasm from his voice.

Bella's answering smile was wooden, "Something like that."

"By my reckoning, it looks like you've already started paddling down that creek. You don't have a lot left to lose."

"There's always something else to lose," she said, and the sadness in her voice tugged on the sleeve of his inner caveman and begged it to come play.

Harry clenched his jaw. Stars and stones, she was good. It was impossible to tell from her body language or voice if she was lying. He looked to Murphy, but she shook her head slightly, also uncertain. He also pointedly ignored the fact that Thomas was little more then asleep with his eyes open. One battle at a time.

Something wet bumped against his hand and he looked to down see Mouse nuzzling him gently. When he had Harry's attention, he chuffed and glared pointedly, a gesture that told the wizard all he needed to know.

"Mouse doesn't believe you," he said, "and neither do I."

Bella's tight smile returned. "I'm afraid you have me at an impasse, Mr. Dresden. I can't explain my situation further, only to say that I can't explain it. I could give you my word, but we both know how far that goes, so unless you plan on torturing me," she raised an eyebrow at this, "there isn't much more to be done."

"Actually, there is," Dresden said, and turned slowly. He didn't want to do this. He did _not_ want to do this. Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong. If they wanted the truth out of her--and if they wanted it quickly--they were tragically low on options.

Two steps brought him within and hand width of her and he knelt, staring directly into her eyes. She, on the other hand, was tactfully finding his chin very interesting at that point. "You know what I am," he said, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for the two of them, "you know what I can do. Look at me."

She licked her lips, "I'm not going to do that."

"If you're truly in danger, and if you're not a threat to anyone in this room, then you have nothing to hide. Look at me, or walk out the door. I'm not going to make you, but you're not going to jeopardize me or my friends past this point unless you give me something to go on."

There was a moment's pause before she breathed, "You're serious."

"Yeah."

Bella took a shaky breath, and Harry could see her silently weigh her options behind the veil of her hair. Moments passed before her shoulders subtly squared under the resolution of her decision.

Then she raised her gaze to his.

* * *

Unlike some of the more violent soul gazes he'd experienced, this one washed over him with the smell of sunlight and furniture polish. Harry found himself standing just inside the entrance of a ridiculously huge house (scratch that, mansion) that was bathed in cheery morning light. It was old, easily dating back to the late seventeenth century, but the dark wood that made up everything from the furniture to the walls to the floor was immaculately kept and freshly polished. He took a step forward and as his boot struck the floor, the sound echoed endlessly throughout its halls. Instantly, with a sixth sense usually only found in dreams, Harry knew that the house was empty aside from himself. It was beautiful, well tended, but empty.

His wandering steps brought him to the base of an enormous staircase and he began to climb instinctively, one hand sliding along the dustless banister. Mirrors lined either side of the stairs. They varied in shape, color, and size, but all of them were ingeniously placed so that one was always facing into another. No matter what angle they were viewed from, they always showed infinite copies of each other. Images within images.

The higher he climbed, the darker it became, until he reached the third floor and continued to walk down its halls, footsteps reverberating into the muted shadows. At last, the hallway ended with giant double doors and Harry pushed through them, finding himself in a child's playroom. The soft tinkling of a music box floated along in the dusty air of the room, and he could see that though every shelf and cubby was filled with toys, all of them were covered with layers of grime. As his gaze followed along the walls, he quickly picked up on the theme present. On a shelf to his left, a stuffed tiger cowered in fear of an innocent looking bunny. Ahead of him, a masculine doll face peered out from behind curly locks and a pink bonnet. In the corner, a set of Russian dolls constantly stacked and restacked themselves. Nothing was as it seemed, everything in this house contained a secret. Yep, it was Bella's.

A quiet sob caught his attention and it was then that Harry noticed another door at the far end of the playroom. Sensing that he'd finally found his destination, he pressed through, finding himself in a dark bedroom once again made almost entirely of wood. Across the room, a dark stained canopy bed dominated the corner, and it took a moment for him to realize that there was a figure lying on the bed. It was Bella, obviously, but she was younger, much younger, probably not even in middle school yet. She laid with her back to him wearing a dark plaid school uniform.

Harry saw with growing horror that the uniform's skirt was hiked high around her hips, and that her white stockings were dirty and torn toward the top. One shoe was missing, and her hair had been matted to a solid mass at the back of her head. Unconsciously, he took a step forward but was stopped again when she spoke.

"You're back early, father," she said, her voice wonderfully composed but hollow, dead. It tore at his heart to hear that tone from any woman, but from one so young…he did his best to bite down his mounting rage and pay attention to his surroundings. What was done was done, and there was nothing he could do to help her now.

He began walking forward again with every intention of touching her shoulder to gain her attention. However, once his hand reached the edge of the bed, a barrier sprang into place with a flash of white light, forcing him back several paces. The light dimmed slightly, and Dresden watched in fascination as it coalesced into thousands of tiny runes that skittered madly from floor to ceiling. He tried focusing on any of them in a search for recognition, but they moved too fast, and continued to move yet faster.

The soul gaze chose that moment to end itself. Harry growled in frustration, straining against it to stay even one second longer, but the relentless darkness closed in on him anyway. In the final moment before he came back to himself, he could have sworn he heard a little girl stomp her foot and yell: "MINE!"

* * *

Harry came to with his hands on the ground, sweat beading on his forehead and his breathing coming a bit faster then what was dignified. Bella, on the other hand, had scrambled as far away from him as she could, one foot actually _in_ the thankfully unlit fireplace. She gaped at him with a mixture of near awe and raw panic, seeming to have forgotten how to blink.

They stayed like that for a moment, simply staring at each other. After a time, a creaking noise reached Dresden's ears and he realized that he'd been unconsciously attempting to clench his left hand. A dull ache throbbed from the unscarred sigil of Lasciel on his palm.

"A contract," he said simply. "You're under a contract."

"Yes," she said, finally folding her legs back beneath her in a more ladylike fashion.

"And that's why you didn't want to say anything."

A nod.

Harry leaned forward again, looking her in the eye without fear with the soul gaze gone. "Give me a name," he all but pleaded. "That's all I need. Give me a name and I promise you that I can get you out of this."

Bella gave a small but sardonic laugh, "The brave little wizard is going to protect me, is that what you're saying?"

He ignored the tick that formed in his jaw, "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Swear it," she demanded, her stare turning hard, "Swear it to me on your power."

His teeth clenched of their own accord. Even in a situation like theirs, he didn't make such an oath lightly. Still… "I swear on my power that I will do everything I can to keep you safe from the one that holds your contract."

A high level of tension seemed to drain out of the thief as she sank bonelessly against the wall behind her. "Ambrose," she said quietly.

"What?"

"The wizard you're looking for," she rolled her head to look at him again, "his name is Ambrose."

"Does that sound familiar to you, Dean?" he heard Sam ask. Once Dean replied with a negative, the room lapsed into silence as everyone surely began to feel the same confusion Harry was feeling. At first reaction, he would have confidently said he'd never heard of a wizard by that name, but the little voice in the back of his head was insistently shouting that the big voice had no idea what it was talking about. He did know it from somewhere, or maybe somewhen…

He closed his eyes, thinking hard, letting his mind drift back through recent memory, then deeper into the past when that turned up nothing. Suddenly, it was as if someone had poured ice down his back and the world became a little darker as the floor decided to try and dump him into the fireplace.

Ambrose.

He knew him.

Stars and fucking stones, he knew exactly who he was.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

1) When I first posted chapter five, I was pretty happy with the results…but then I read "Backup" and I realized how incredibly far off I was in interpreting Thomas' character. I almost went back and reposted the entire chapter, but I'm moderately to completely computer illiterate and I wasn't sure what that would end up doing to the story as a whole. That being said, I'd like to apologize to everyone out there for my gross inaccuracy, and I promise to do my best to stay more true to the character. I've already decided that once this monster is finished I'm going to go back and rewrite it, so everything will most definitely be fixed in that far off day.

2) …Actually, I have no 2. Weird O.o


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